


Vortex

by sarenka



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Related, Cyberpunk 2077 Spoilers, Dating, Explicit Consent, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Gangs, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Original Female Character, Police Brutality, Police Critical, Polish Culture, Poverty, Relationship Discussions, Romance, Sexual Content, Social Commentary, Social Issues, Street Kid V (Cyberpunk 2077)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarenka/pseuds/sarenka
Summary: When her baby brother, Alex Vitkovski known as V, returns from Atlanta to the Night City, Nela hopes to resurrect their relationship.After the job gone wrong threatens V’s life, Nela struggles with her emotions, trying to support her brother. She rushes to help whenever possible, and Alex doesn’t shy away from asking.One gig forces Nela to work with the detective River Ward. Nothing suggests they would ever see each other again.What bond could develop between the Heywood netrunner and the NCPD cop? None. But what bond could there be between the woman facing death and heartbreak and the man facing betrayal and loss of job and identity?Utterly lonely in the big bright city, Nela and River keep finding each other.
Relationships: River Ward/Original Female Character
Comments: 111
Kudos: 70





	1. Prodigal Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I use no Archive warning but each separate chapter will use Trigger Warning/Content Warning when necessary.
> 
> This is a long fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V is back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief mentions of past relationship abuse. 
> 
> I always prefer to write OC instead of following the game path but there will be a play on the original storyline given how the protagonist is V's sister.

After finishing a small gig for Padre, Nela plans to chill for the rest of the day when the man in question calls her on the holo.

That is unusual. Anything wrong with her work?

“Padre?” Nela asks, looking at the familiar face of the Heywood fixer whom she has known most of her life. “Something off with our biz?”

“Not at all, dear child. The eddies should be on your account already. I’m calling about... a more personal matter.”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you recall the parable of the prodigal son?” Padre continues and Nela settles in her chair, more comfortable now. It is not unusual for him to start his request with the tales about God.

He is a man of cloth, as real of a priest as it gets despite his other calling in life.

“I recall,” Nela, raised Catholic, admits. “As much as I skipped the Sunday school. You know how the Warsaw Church is.”

The man chuckles. “Do you remember what the father says to his older son about the younger brother? ‘ _Your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found’_.”

Nela’s heart sinks and her throat tries, and so she sits in silence for more than a second while Padre waits with no signs of impatience.

“Is V back?” She rasps at last. “Is my gonk of a baby brother back in the Night City?”

“I gave him a lift two nights ago. I suppose he hasn’t reached out to you?”

“I will murder him,” Nela declares, making the priest smirk under his nose.

“You’re a good woman, Nela,” Padre says, and she sighs to herself. “I thought I might give you the heads-up so you can rejoice once you actually see him. It is good when they come home.”

Nela isn’t so sure, but she smiles nonetheless. “I appreciate the heads-up,” she nods. “I do, truly.”

“God bless.”

Well, fuck.

Alex is back. Everyone has been calling him V for so long now, but for Nela he will always be Alex, her stupid little brother with more luck than any reason behind it.

The word on the streets of Heywood travels fast. It’s good that Padre called before she could hear the gossip herself. Still, it would have been fucking nice for her own brother to inform her he is back after three years in Atlanta.

Three years filled with more silence and words unspoken than anything else. Few calls here and there, that’s it.

It stings. It always stings with him, because V does whatever he wants to, whenever he wants to, and Nela has never fully learned how to let go of the fear essential to loving him.

Sure, she missed him. She missed that stupid face with those blue eyes and a bright smile.

Has Atlanta changed him? He used to think of himself as cynical and realistic like so many men believe themselves to be, but in truth V always had this youthful hope that one day the world might be at his feet. He’d get excited about his plans and ideas.

The only time Nela saw the light go out of her brother’s eyes was when _babcia_ Aniela got killed. Nothing before had managed to crush him quite the same way.

Her death crushed Nela, too.

For a while _babcia_ Aniela had seemed immortal, no matter how much blood had soaked the streets. Her presence had been a fixed point, no matter how unstable the life would get. Her home — their home — a fixed point on the city map, too. One person and one place to come back to whenever they fucked up, and Christ, wouldn’t Nela and Alex have fuck up quite the few times?

For Nela, those had been the breakups, including the time when she’d arrived with her ribs broken and _babcia_ Aniela had said no words of judgement. For Alex, those had been the troubles on the streets whenever he’d bite more than he could chew, and there had been no judgement either.

No wonder he left when _babcia_ Aniela died. No wonder Nela did little to stop him; and how exactly could she have stopped a grown man who listens to no one?

At least when he was away, Nela could pretend that somehow Atlanta was different from the Night City, and that he lived his life more as “Alex” and less as “V”.

That he was happy, and safe from harm, and that Nela wouldn’t lose him like she lost everyone else.

* * *

V won’t avoid her forever, and sooner or later he will come at the door, looking for food and a place to stay. That’s how it’s always been.

Nela prepares for the moment, buying bags of the frozen pierogi, his favorite soda and beer, and more snacks she ever keeps for herself.

He’ll come hungry and tired, and he’ll empty half of the fridge like a vacuum.

Fuck. She missed him, all right? The way one misses only family. No matter how long they stay away somehow when they come back, they fit in right away.

He could sleep on the sofa for now. He could use the money, too, Nela bets. There are still eddies for him from _babcia_ Aniela, and no matter how rough things have been, Nela has never dared to spend them.

* * *

It takes Alex three full days to arrive, during which Nela barely leaves the apartment aside from doing the groceries. There has never been more food in here since _babcia_ Aniela’s ruled the household.

Finally, in the afternoon, after Nela manages to finish an odd job for an old acquaintance, the intercom rings.

“I should kick your ass,” Nela says and hears V laugh.

He runs up the stairs as usual, and soon enough Nela stands face to face with her younger brother.

“Blue hair now?” He frowns, pointing at her messy waves, and she rolls her eyes, letting him inside.

“It’s turquoise,” she corrects him as V marches straight to the fridge to take out two bottles of beer.

As if he’d never left.

“You’ve been ready, I say,” he flashes his boyish smile. “Who spilled, huh?”

“Padre,” she admits. “Good for you, I say. I was ready to kill you.”

“You weren’t the only one,” he nods, opening the bottles and handing her one before. He sets his ass on the sofa, plopping the feet on the coffee table. “I would have called sooner. I broke my nose, and then I tried doing the favor for Pepe at El Coyote Cojo, and I took the job from Kirk Sawyer and then another merc tried to steal from me and then the pigs came flying and they beat us up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nela snorts, because this is exactly the kind of thing V would involve himself with. “What the fuck were you thinking taking a job from sleazy Kirk few days after your arrival? The turf changes each day, you know what.”

“Yeah, some 6th Street scum pulled iron on Padre. Wild, huh? Gosh, I missed this city.”

“Are you injured?” Nela eyes V up and down, but he looks good even with the fucked up nose and some bruises. He looks healthy. A bit too happy for her taste, but that’s how he usually acts.

“I walked it off already. Anyway, the merc I got busted with, the one who tried to steal from me? He’s my choom now. He asked me to crush at his place, so you should be happy that I won’t be bothering you all the time.”

“What the fuck? You’re not moving with some fucking creep you just met.”

“Chill, Nela. It’s Jackie Welles.”

That isn’t too bad.

“Mama Welles’ son?” Nela chews on the information. “Are you telling me you’re going to barge into this poor woman’s home?”

“Just until I rent my own pad, no worries. Mama Welles okayed it already. So yeah, I’m good. You don’t need to worry what I’m gonna do next.”

How come they share the same genes and yet her brother is such a gonk?

“Just don’t mooch off Mama Welles,” Nela says, and he grunts in response. “I’m serious, Alex. It’s very generous she lets you stay, but help out at the house, you slob, and pay for the food. I got eddies for you.”

“Really?” He frowns all of a sudden. “What did I do to deserve them?”

“Nothing indeed,” Nela readily agrees. “ _Babcia_ Aniela left something for you.”

There it is, the moment when they mention her. The air shifts around, and V gets serious.

“You kept the eddies for me?” He asks.

“Sure. Do you think I’d go against her word? She’d raise from the grave and kill me for not taking care of you,” she laughs, making a transfer.

He whistles to himself. “Preem. That’s a start, I suppose,” Alex says, voice trembling. “I miss her, you know?”

“I do,” she smiles to her thoughts. “I miss her each day.”

“I had to leave. I know you’re still mad at me for ghosting after the funeral, but for me the city had died alongside her. There was nothing left for me here.”

 _I was here,_ Nela wishes to say, but it has always been this way between them. She is five years older, and she has always the one to take care of Alex while he’d go about his business.

The baby in the family, the boy in the family, the _favorite_.

Is there bitterness? Sure, and yet Nela understands, because she has always loved V the same way everyone does. Somehow, with all his temper and bravado and charm and youthfulness and big plans, he is easy to love. He’s always been easy to love.

“I like what you did with the place,” he looks around at the old apartment where they used to all live together at times. “It’s different, but somehow I still feel her presence.”

“Thanks,” Nela whispers, and some weight lifts off her shoulders. Each time she’d change something, it felt like destroying _babcia_ Aniela’s memory. “I changed her bedroom into mine and changed the other room into my workspace. You ain’t mad?”

“Nah, are you joking? Prime job. I never stayed here for too long. Couldn’t even invite the girl over unless you were away so I could take your bed.”

“Spare me,” she begs. “So, what changed now? What made you come back to the city?”

“One girl broke my heart,” he shrugs. “I burned the few bridges on the East Coast. I missed this fucking place. It’s home, Nela. That’s what it is. I missed you, too. I know you don’t think so, but it’s true.”

She snorts and smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re back. What is the plan now? Are you gonna do the merc work?”

“That’s the idea. I partner up with Jackie. It’s easier within the team.”

“If you need a netrunner, don’t come looking for me. I want nothing to do with your grand absurd plans,” she warns.

“I’ll remember,” he laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “Is there some food?”

“Haven’t you learned to cook on your own? Do you at least know how the microwave works or still nothing?” She teases him, but she walks up to the freezer to take out the pierogi.

“Nela Vitkovski,” her brother places his hand over his heart. “You are the best sister I could have dreamed of.”

“I’m your only sibling, you gonk.”

“With our old man? We could never be fucking sure.”

“Ugh,” Nela grimaces, pouring the water into the pot and turning on the stove. “ At least find something to watch on the tv if you’re to be of no use.”

“You say that, but I know you love me, Nela,” V triumphs, grabbing a blanket to make himself cozy.

Yeah, she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I appreciate it. :)


	2. Ordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela meets Jackie and V gets settled in the night city

It doesn’t take long for Nela to pay a visit to the house of _Señora_ Welles, and she knows not to come empty-handed, hauling a decent bottle of vodka and a decent attempt at the no bake cheesecake with synth strawberries and jelly on top.

“So you’re Nela,” Mama Welles pulls her into a hug. “I’ve seen you before, but I’m not sure we’ve ever exchanged more than a few words.”

“I’m more of a quiet type than my brother,” Nela laughs, setting the gifts on the counter. “I hope he doesn’t trouble you too much. Kick him out if need be, he won’t be homeless.”

“You know I’m twenty-six, not fourteen, right?” V says, huffing and puffing already as he steps into the kitchen.

“There she is!” Jackie Welles walks in, and Nela connects the name to the face. “V’s much better looking sister.”

“Charmer, huh?” She laughs when they kiss on the cheek. “I realize that I know you. You’re Misty’s guy!”

“Ugh,” Mama Welles sighs and Jackie makes the clear gesture to drop the topic while Nela mouths her apologies.

 _Babcia_ Aniela was hard to please when it came to Alex’ girlfriends, so the dynamic seems familiar even though Nela finds it ridiculous. Misty Olszewski in all her strangeness is the utter sweetheart, loyal to the core and probably one of the few pure souls in this hellish city.

The dinner is lovely, though. Sitting at the table across from her brother feels more like home than the last three years. Mama Welles might be critical of her son’s output, but she welcomes Nela with open arms, asking many questions.

“V told me you used to live in the Glen before moving to Vista Del Rey?”

“Yeah,” Nela confirms. “Our grandma’s partner, Diego, was in the Valentinos. He got shot shortly after I turned eighteen. V was merely thirteen at the time. We moved to the smaller apartment in the Vista Del Rey the same year and then I left out to live with the guy.”

“At eighteen?” Mama Welles sends her the knowing smirk, tad sad. “How did it go?”

“How d’ya think?” Nela sighs, shaking her head. “Came back to live with the grandma. It wasn’t the great time. It was then that V started running with the Valentinos, too.”

“I built a rap sheet as a minor. Did some juvie time before I smartened up and shifted to be a merc. See, Jackie here was in the Valentinos as well.”

Nela is not surprised. For many in Heywood, it is the rite of passage.

“I see your ink, Jackie,” Nela nods. “Beautiful work.”

“Right?” The man lifts his arm with pride. “I left the Valentinos, but I hold no grudges. Good memories.”

“I agree,” V grins. “I bet Nela doesn’t. Wasn’t each of your first four boyfriends a Valentino?”

“I’m a Heywood girl born and raised,” Nela laughs openly while Mama Welles smiles with sympathy. “There wasn’t much choice, you gonk! We’re Catholics and come from the immigrants, so what, I’d go for the 6th Street star-spangled assholes? It was an inevitable symbiosis. Now I have several rose tattoos in different places to demonstrate my youthful mistakes.”

Jackie wipes the tears from his eyes, roaring from laughter, and too V can’t help his amusement.

“They don’t understand the grind,” Mama Welles says, cutting the cheesecake to hand Nela a big piece. “I get it more than you know.”

“Mama!” Jackie protests, and Nela giggles to herself.

How is it that V comes back, gets himself almost killed and yet ends up in a home like this, eating homemade meal with his new choom and his lovely mama? How is it so easy for him to go out and meet people and get close with them, and Nela can only try to open up when someone invites her in?

She’s always envied Alex that uncanny ability to insert himself into people’s homes and people’s hearts. He’s like a parasite, yet impossible not to love, and now she’s here, thanks to him, enjoying a better night than most.

“Come anytime,” Mama Welles hugs her at the end of evening. “Thank you for the cake.”

“I’ll gladly be back,” Nela says, and she means it.

Jackie too pulls her into a warm bear-like embrace, and it seems like she has known him for a long time.

“What, less worried now?” V says his goodbyes last, poking at her rib.

“Hey,” she pokes him back with her acrylics. “I have longer nails, asshole. Yeah, I’m less worried now. Just be good, huh? You know what I mean.”

“No biz beyond reason? Got it, got it,” he flashes his bright smile. “It was good to have fun with you, Nela.”

“You better be willing to do that when you get your own place, huh?” She pats his cheek. “Don’t forget about your old sister.”

* * *

Nela doesn’t keep tabs on V, but she hears what is going on and he and Jackie make a name for themselves with their gun-for-hire work. They do gigs mostly around Heywood without interrupting the precarious ecosystem on the streets.

If there is any key to survival in this fucking hellhole of dreams called the Night City, it is the knowledge how not to upset the balance too much. The good fixers know how to keep this city from falling apart.

Her own work goes steady. Decent flow of eddies, not too high of the risk all things considering.

Life is prime, truly.

* * *

V doesn’t forget about her when he gets his new apartment in the megabuilding in Watson.

The megabuilding is as shit as all such places are, but the pad is clean and nice.

“Gonna keep it that way?” Nela asks when they haul the boxes and the suitcases. “Christ, Alex, what the fuck are you carrying here?”

“I’m not a netrunner, Nela,” he says, grinning to her like a little boy in the candy store when he opens the door to the secret compartment. “My tools of work weigh a bit more.”

Nela knows her way around the firearms, the necessity of life, but V has always been a true master of craft, and his stash shows for it.

“Do I wanna know what kind gigs you’re taking up those days?” She questions, sitting on the desk and watching him unpack as Jackie brings up more boxes.

Everyone knows how the biz works, the reality of the modern life. Those are the things you don’t mention at the family table and you rarely talk about.

“Probably not,” Alex shrugs, and then glances at her.

“You know, I read that the close to 8% of the inhabitants of the Night City have killed someone in their life,” she says.

“That a lot?” V frowns.

“Yeah. More than you think.”

“They probably don’t include the deaths the corpos cause spreading around here like a fucking disease,” Alex mutters.

V has been among those 8% since before he turned eighteen, although to Nela’s knowledge he’s always killed out of necessity. Just the street biz and beefs and then the solo work.

At least she hopes so.

She is among those 8%, too. It rubs her the wrong way, as unavoidable as it was at times.

There is no innocence in the Night City.

“You’re carrying those days?” V inquires, studying her. “Or can you deal without?”

Her skills as a netrunner have grown considerably in the last years. Some are natural at this. Nela isn’t. She has started later than many, but she has all caught up.

“I can flatline someone easily if I have to,” she admits, watching Alex hang the sniper rifle on the wall. “I still carry the Omaha from time to time.”

“The girl gun?” He grins at her before she reaches out to smack his head.

“Stop with the sexist shit!” She scolds him.

“I’m just telling how it is,” he protests, laughing at her. “Let me know if you want something better.”

“The biz has been doing well, I see?”

“Preem, indeed,” Alex nods, lifting his hand to show her the palms. “Got the Subdermal grip, and I upgraded my Kinoshi. Jackie fixed me up with the new ripper.”

“Prime work,” Nela pouts and turns to Jackie, who opens the door. “Hey, who’s the ripper?”

“Viktor,” he answers. “He’ll might come later. He has a place in the basements of Misty’s shop.”

“Is there anyone you wouldn’t know, _Señor_ Welles?” Nela teases him as he whistles, looking at Alex’s firearms collection on display.

“I try to know everyone that matter,” the man grins. “You’ll see, Nela, one day we’ll make it to to the big leagues.”

* * *

Maybe it’s the Polish thing after all, but Nela has always favored vodka over tequila.

“I won’t hear it,” Jackie announces, mortally offended at her explanations when she tries to share her reasoning.

“It’s my birthright!” She yells through laughter after him when he walks away, disgusted and defeated.

“He treats his tequila with utmost seriousness,” Misty says, and Nela turns to her. “It’s good to catch up with you, you know?”

They met once in childhood at the creepy Warsaw Church when Nela decides to learn more of the mother-tongue and poor Misty got send for retreat by her old man.

The surest way to ensure the daughter would run the esoterica store is to send her to church, indeed, Nela thinks to herself.

They have seen each other throughout the years, here and there, always friendly, never too close.

“Prime,” Nela smiles. “Jackie doesn’t shut about you whenever I see him.”

Her words must bring joy because Misty smiles, shaking her head. “If only Mama Welles would grow fond of me, it would be quite perfect.”

“Give it time,” Nela says. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

“Anyone special in your life? Sorry, it seems intrusive, but then asking about work isn’t more tactful, is it?”

“No one steady,” Nela admits with the tinge of sadness. “My twenties have been so riddled with disastrous relationships that I wonder if it’ll ever happen for me. I like men, I rarely choose them well.”

“Swing by one day, I’ll give you a reading. On me, of course,” Misty smiles, and even though Nela rarely partakes in any spiritual practices, she might take Misty on her offer just for the company.

* * *

The esoterica store looks fitting for what it promises.

“So you’re saying that I’m single at thirty-one is my fault?” Nela sighs, sinking into the chair.

“No,” Misty protests, smiling kindly despite teasing. “What I am saying is that love comes at inopportune times so you ought to pay attention.”

“I thought you’d tell me I’d meet a tall, handsome stranger and we’ll drive off into the sunset,” Nela continues, closing her eyes. “It would be so nice.”

“Who knows what will be? The cards show struggle and hard choices, but you can make the sunsets happen, I am sure.”

“I wish,” Nela admits to what she doesn’t share with V. “I thought I’m fine on my own, and maybe it has been better this way, but shit gets old fast.”

“I get it,” Misty says, serious all of a sudden. “I get this fear about Jackie from time to time. I remember how lonely it’s been without him.”

“You’re good though, right?”

“We’re good,” Misty nods. “I’m just mumbling now.”

* * *

It is funny how even though Nela knows this city through and through, the life still lulls her into the false sense of security.

When V starts talking about the heist, she barely pays attention.

When he starts talking about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, she chucks it to his gonk enthusiasm. When she hears of Dexter DeShawn involved, she is concerned, but both Jackie and Alex soothe her worry.

Life’s been good, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) 
> 
> The first chapters are more introductory and to set the scene, but it has to be done and River will make appearance in chapter 4.


	3. Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heist and its aftermath.

Every radio and tv station reports the shooting at the Konpeki Plaza. It’s like a war zone.

Nela pours milk into the bowl of cereal. Now the media will talk about it for weeks, all while ignoring the literal war zones around the Night City.

It doesn’t matter how many people die; it matters who they are. The world decides the price of each life, and some are cheap. Most are cheap.

The cereal tastes of sugar, sweet and crunchy. Nela plops on the sofa and turns off the tv. It is late already; the sky’s darkening.

She could go to bed, catch some rest. The last month was busy and thank fucking Christ because she finally upgraded her hardware.

Why can’t she relax, though? Something bugs her.

The ring on the holo makes her jump out and the cold shiver travels down her spine when she sees Mama Welles’s calling.

“Yeah?” Nela picks up and then she sees the tears flowing down _Señora_ Welles’ cheeks.

Her heart crushes under the weight of the world.

See, women like Mama Welles save their tears for few people only.

“Jackie’s home,” the woman says. “ _Cold._ ”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

“V?” Nela only asks.

“No,” Mama Welles thins her lips. “Car drop off.”

“Shit,” Nela mumbles, and the acid burns her mouth, her throat, her stomach. “I’ll find out more. What—what do you need?”

“I’ll deal,” Señora Welles speaks with determination as Nela feels like the world around will swallow her whole. “He’s wearing a suit, you know? A suit. Weird. I’ll keep everything hush for now.”

The logical step would be to call Alex, but he might have gotten burned and Nela can’t shake this gripping fear that he stepped into shit bigger than what she imagines.

He would never share the details of his gig. That is not how the merc works. The only deets she has is that he’s always worked with Jackie, that he spilled that they’ve been doing biz for Dexter DeShawn and that sometimes there’s a netrunner involved.

Most netrunners know each other. Well, they know each other’s handles, and Nela knows the netrunner who ran gigs with Jackie and V.

_T-Bug._

That’s the start.

* * *

Everyone is different on the Net.

That is the point. There are those aware of Nela’s profession, like Padre, who’s known her since childhood.

Still. On the Net, Nela turns into Rusalka, and the two identities stay as separate as possible in other areas of life.

There are thousands of the netrunners in the Night City, but most of them aren’t that good.

T-Bug was good. Picky, professional, distanced. The type of hacker who lives to see the tomorrow. The type of hacker Nela considers herself to be.

T-Bug got ICEd.

It’s been a sixteen hours since Mama Welles called, and Nela just found out that T-Bug got burned by Arasaka. Thank fucking Christ the world travels fast before Nela could do a serious digging.

Arasaka must-have fried T-Bug’s brain at the same time as the shooting at the Konpeki Plaza, and that means that Nela’s brother is the biggest fucking gonk of them all.

He’s dead, too. He must be. There is no other way, and Nela cries, packing her bags and wondering when the Arasaka security will come knocking at her own door.

They haven’t come looking for Jackie; she knows that.

What now? The apartment is in _Babcia_ Aniela’s name, years after her death. It’s wasteful to destroy shit inside without knowing if and how V got made, but Nela won’t stay here for the next few nights until she is sure.

She can track whether anyone comes to the apartment from the outside.

Shit, shit, shit! Fucking Christ.

Nela could call Padre, but she’d never risk getting the corpo on his back, either.

She runs down the stairs of her all building with a backpack and a duffel bag and tosses the baggage to her Villefort Columbus.

On a daily basis she relies on her beloved Kusanagi, but Nela knew a moment like would come.

Of course it is because of V.

Fuck! The only feelings stronger than anger are fear and grief for him. Why would he choose something so fucking reckless and stupid, like chasing the fucking heist of the lifetime if Nela has to guess?

And for what? For getting whacked God knows where? How is she even to find his body?

* * *

Nela stays at the bar parking lot in the Glen, close to the exist to the Pacifica. She hacked the camera to have a view of the incoming traffic.

Worst comes, she can drive through the no-go zone and hope that the Arasaka already knows she’s useless so they won’t even bother.

Nobody shows up at the apartment. No word from Mama Welles and Nela is sure someone would reach out to her if Arasaka arrived.

No word from V and Nela has yet to dare to try to call him.

The news on the radio talk about Saburo Arasaka’s death. How is this connected to Alex? Perhaps it would better to never find out, but she has to know what happened.

Fuck! The tears flow, and Nela presses her hand to her mouth, trying to keep quiet.

With Alex gone, there’s only her and the void.

* * *

Vik calls.

“Come,” he says, and Nela sees the glimpse of V’s face behind him.

She rushes, trying not to drive like a madwoman, cutting through the center of the Night City and finally crossing the bridge to Watson before she parks the car and runs through the metal gate and then down the stairs to the basement.

“Hey, kiddo,” Viktor says through the intercom before she barges in.

“He alive?” Nela looks at the ripper.

“Hi, sis,” Alex rasps from another room and Nela follows the voice

He looks rough, lying on the bed, suddenly so small.

“Hi,” she whispers, stepping closer.

His face, however beaten, couldn’t be more familiar. Nela might dye her hair and wear makeup, he might get his nose broken more than once, they both might sport some cyberware, but Alex’s eyes are the same as the eyes she looks at in the mirror, large and blue-gray.

“I fucked up,” his voice shakes, and he speaks like that nine-year-old boy who came home from school and told her how larger kids bullied him. “I fucked up and Jackie’s dead.”

“I know. I talked with his mother,” Nela says, grasping his hand, and he holds onto to her like she is his lifeline.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears from flowing.

It is not the first time Nela has seen her brother cry, but each time it claws at her. However much time passes, however adult they both are, it doesn’t matter. She always feels it’s her job to protect him. His whole life, it’s been her job to protect him.

“What happened?” She asks as Viktor pushes the chair in her direction so she could sit down by the bed.

They both trust Viktor, and he doesn’t linger to listen, anyway.

“I was _there_ ,” V confirms the worst.

He doesn’t need to specify, they both know what he’s talking about.

The pain shows on his face as he speaks, straining to get the words out, and Nela listens, pushing away the rage, the sadness, the frustration.

The heist of the fucking lifetime. Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder Dex needed the newer faces because not every merc would be such a gonk as to break in inside the penthouse of Yorinobu Arasaka.

Like a predictable train wreck, the story gets worse, and whatever deets V doesn’t share, Nela can guess.

Still, nothing prepares her for the pinnacle of the tale.

 _Nothing_.

* * *

Viktor is the one to do most of the explaining because in shock Nela simply refuses to listen to her brother and his mumblings about the biochip and the engram of the long-dead terrorist living in his head.

V died and then came back to life. Less of a miraculous resurrection, more like a zombie nightmare.

He is alive now, but he’s dying. Shit.

Alex might not understand all of Viktor’s explanations, but Nela has always been smart, and she follows enough to grasp the implications right away.

The engram is destroying his brain.

It couldn’t have been more horrific or bizarre, though Nela is grateful she is here for now, because as long as he walks this earth, there are options. There must be options, even if Vik doesn’t see any.

On top of it all, the man who brought V here is the Arasaka bodyguard.

“Calm the fuck down, Nela,” Alex loses his patience. “Just trust me for once. If Takemura wanted me dead, he could have killed me, and Viktor and everyone else hundred times over.”

There is logic in what to say, but trust him? Trust him?

It takes all the power for Nela to keep it together and not scream in V’s face that if he was only less of a brainless gonk, he wouldn’t have been dying and Jackie and T-Bug would have been alive.

Nela thinks those thoughts, poisonous and judgemental, but she never shares them. Not with V.

Babcia Aniela would always say that she is older and smarter, and she needs to take the higher road.

Fuck. How weird is that that those words follow her everywhere she goes.

“I’ll help you,” she whispers instead, embracing her baby brother. “Whatever you need.”

“I don’t want to die,” he cries into her neck, making her heart rattle.

* * *

There is a restless sadness in Misty’s eyes when Nela finally sees her. The kind of pain that only time tempers, the grief that cannot be rushed.

She must have cried so hard.

Misty still insist helping to get Alex back to his apartment. All her anguish, and she speaks to V in a soothing voice, saying things that catch in Nela’s throat.

Nela lets them have a private moment when she heads down to get some groceries. As much as she wishes to know all, there is a space she cannot force herself into.

When she returns with the bags of food, Misty waits in the corridor.

“He lied down,” she whispers, fighting a little sob.

“I am so sorry for you loss,” Nela says as her voice breaks.

“I had a feeling. Told him as much. It’s just… without Jackie, it’s like there’s no sun for a minute.”

Jackie was larger than life, and so warm to those he loved.

“I can only imagine.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Misty adds, studying Nela’s face. “As long as V is alive, there’s hope. I think he needs hope.”

“I know. You’re right. I’ve always tried being there for him. He’s my brother, my flesh and blood. I admit though, I’m awful at lifting spirits. Part of me just wants to yell at him, but what good would it do? Sorry, I don’t mean to put it all on you. Christ, I’m a wreck.”

“I’m grieving, you’re trying to fight,” Misty sighs. “I would be a mess if I was your shoes, too.”

“Whatever you need, let me know.”

“We’ll keep in touch.”

* * *

V tells her to go home and come back in the morning, because apparently she is lurking around and it makes it difficult for him to sleep.

Everything in her wants to protest, but she listens to him, telling him to call anytime.

It is awful to close the door and leave him alone, but however close the end is, he won’t die in the few hours and they both know Nela cannot watch over him 24/7.

He’d lose it if she tried.

Fuck.

Nela can’t recall the first time she ever saw Alex as a brand newborn baby, but she remembers the day their mama died like it was yesterday. Alex was two, and she was seven. Their mama worked as a joytoy in Westbrook. She was pretty and blond, with the whole Eastern European shtick of sweetness and innocence. A troubled soul, too. _Babcia_ Aniela didn’t say how mama died. Nela learned that later. All she recalls is finding out and _babcia_ Aniela explaining how now Alex needs his big sister and how Nela will need to do even more to help out.

Alex cried for mama at first, but overall he was a happy toddler. Every day Nela would spend hours with him, giving him milk and cereal, changing his diaper and bribing him to use potty, putting on the cartoons shows he liked, playing with him, taking him on the swing set.

They got older and Nela got more selfish, but she’d take that chip from his brain and put it in hers if she could.

But she can’t.

* * *

It takes V seven days to confess to her that Johnny Silverhand tried to flatline him that first morning, thirty-five minutes before Nela got there.

“We’ve talked it over,” Alex shrugs, as if he could negotiate with the washed up rocker-terrorist in his brain.

Nela might hate Johnny Silverhand more than he does.

* * *

They attend Jackie’s wake at El Coyote Cojo. So many come to pay their respects and share the stories to celebrate his life.

That is Heywood, all right? They come together in death, the most frequent occasion to dine and drink as the community.

There have been more wakes and funerals Nela remembers than any other occasions.

V is here, quieter than usual but seeming healthy, as if the devil wasn’t watching over his shoulder, waiting for him to die.

Time is ticking.

The ofrenda is beautiful. Jackie might have been so open and loud, but even in his death Nela learns more and more about him.

Will as many show up for V? Christ, what a fucked up thought.

He isn’t dead yet, Nela tells herself. That’s her brother, not a walking corpse.

“Holding up?” She asks, giving him a hug.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Mama Welles told me to keep Jackie’s bike.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’m quite touched. Eh, I miss him, you know? He was the best friend I’ve ever had. I find myself just wishing to hear his voice.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, patting is shoulder. “I really am.”

“I know, Nela,” he places a kiss on her forehead. “I know.”

They both mingle for a while.

Nela chats with Mama Welles, and then with Misty, who looks unsure to be here, but whom _Señora_ Welles embraces at the end. Jackie would have wished for it, only a shame it comes so late. The crowd of the Valentinos sits at the various tables, and Padre watches the scene from the balcony.

She walks up to him, even though Nela isn’t certain what she herself believes in.

“Padre,” she says, waiting.

“Hello, dear child,” he murmurs. “ _‘But the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace’_.”

“Do you really believe it?” She asks, leaning on the balustrade. “That he is in peace? That there is a peace after this?”

“I believe in God,” he answers, taking a sip of his drink. “No matter what my sins. The rest is mystery, but I believe Jackie has met the Lord.”

“I don’t know if I find that hopeful.”

“I don’t know if God left the meeting happy, but I believe Jackie did,” Padre says, and Nela can’t help her smile.

Perhaps there is something after death. Perhaps all those lost aren’t lost forever.

It’s a fool’s hope, but today Nela will cling to anything to not drown in the void.

Tomorrow, she’ll think of what she can do for V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will finally feature River and thus the core of the story begins.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	4. Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela meets Detective Ward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of police brutality and violence, including sexual violence (not graphic, just discussed)

It has quickly become apparent that V’s idea of Nela’s help to save his sorry ass from imminent death is to use her as a convenient sidekick.

He doesn’t let her near the Arasaka guy; he barely shares his name and only after promises of not interfering.

“I am not getting you into this,” Alex says when they meet for dinner.

“Too fucking late, you gonk,” she hisses at him.

She helps him anyway, always at his beck and call like a 24/7 netrunning service. Who is the utter gonk at the end of the day? Nela.

At least he has a decency to split payments.

“I need the eddies,” he says when they sit at his apartment one night. “You know the word on the street has its price. I need more eddies than ever and I gotta take gigs, show that I’m still in the biz, if for appearance only.”

“I get that part,” Nela closes her eyes, lying down on his sofa. “I just wish to do more. There’s gotta be something.”

“You’re just like her, you know? The more you age, the more you are like _babcia_ Aniela.”

She tosses a pillow straight into his face. “The more I _age_? Is there any hope you’d learn some tact?”

“Doubt it, no time now,” he laughs at her. “Be glad you don’t hear what Johnny’s gotta say, because I puked in my mouth when he called you an eight.”

“Ugh,” she groans, covering her face. “I’ll dance on his fucking grave, tell him that.”

They fall into a new routine. Arasaka doesn’t come knocking on her Heywood pad and neither do they come looking for V. In some ways, it could have been worse. They still walk the streets of their own city.

Maybe they see each other more than ever, but their banter is almost normal.

Only sometimes V mutters something about Johnny as if Johnny was a new choom, not a virus living in his head.

As if the time wasn’t ticking away like a bomb.

The numbness falls on Nela, invading every cell of her body. What else is there to do? Daily tasks, done and done, waiting for V to call with demands.

Her heart is dying, and yet it is not drastic, and perhaps that makes it wrong. There’s no catastrophe, no emergency, just pain drilling more into her each day.

* * *

Two weeks of running errands for V and Nela is done. It would be better to do her own thing instead of this bizarre arrangement, especially when Alex doesn’t tell her shit.

She should draw a boundary and tell him to let her live her life. Take a moment to breathe and gather her own thoughts instead of wallowing in whatever this is.

Then V calls.

“My sweet sister,” he begins and Nela rolls her eyes.

“What do you want?” She barks at him today.

“Remember that you said you’d help whenever possible?” unbothered, her brother continues, once again playing the _soon-will-be-dead-there-is-a-terrorist-destroying-my-brain_ card.

In truth, that card trumps all. How is she to draw a boundary now, when in few weeks, months tops, he’ll be gone?

“Mhm,” Nela sighs, and something inside her softens. “What’s going on, Alex?”

“Listen, I caught the case regarding the mayor’s death.”

“You’re fucking serious?” She asks. “Who hired you?”

“Peralez.”

“The councilman? Interesting.”

“Pay’s great. I’ll give you sixty percent if you help me. I have some other business to attend later in the day. There’s a cop I gotta meet and I want you to join me. You’re better at this than me.”

“Talking to cops?” Nela sneers. “I doubt it.”

“Some might recognize my dumb face, nobody knows you. Please? It’s detective River Ward. He wants to meet at the Chubby Buffalo.”

“Am I your backup or doing your work for you?”

“You’re the best sister, that’s what you are, Nela,” V says in a tone she knows far too well. “Come on, it’s the south Glen location. Can you come asap?”

“Sure,” Nela resigns herself to her fate. “Be there.”

“Park on the street. I wanna have a little chat before we go in.”

* * *

Every time Nela sees V now it dawns on her that she is looking for some discernible shift in his face, in his gestures, in his speech to show that he is changing, that fucking Johnny Silverhand is taking over him, but so far there’s nothing.

He looks the same, from his smile to his eyes, to the confident posture.

“You changed your hair?” He furrows his eyebrows as if unsure.

“Last night,” she confirms, running her hand through the chopped up waves. “I think pink suits me more than turquoise. Anyway, better spill the deets.”

“Have you seen the braindance I sent you?”

“Yup,” she confirms. “Weird, but that alone tells us little. Why are the Peralezes so interested?”

“Fear maybe. They suspect that Weldon Holt might be behind it.”

Nela clacks her tongue. “Can’t tell if it would be the political dream or the utter nightmare for the Peralezes. Isn’t Holt funded by corpos, anyway? What would they do with the information? Do you think they want the truth or to hear what they want to hear?”

V shrugs. “They sounded pretty genuine for what they are. They stipulated no expectations. I don’t know, Nela. I don’t know what we might find. The pay is worth it, though.”

“Can’t be worse than most jobs I run,” Nela says. “What’s the angle with the cop?”

“I’ll tell him the truth, I don’t see why not? I just want you to hang around. You saw what he looks like, and he knows what I look like. Get it first, sit somewhere and listen in. Imma put you on the holo.”

“Eavesdropping on the detective the first time you meet? Some honesty, there,” Nela takes a deep breath. “Will it bite you in the ass?”

“Psh,” Alex scoffs. “You know pigs come in pairs, and I bet he isn’t alone.”

“True that. Let’s go then.”

* * *

Chubby Buffalo in the Glen; the smell of grease and coffee in the air. The staple of shitty diner chains. How nostalgic.

Nela is already sitting in the booth by the front, sipping on her milkshake, ready to listen in on the comm line.

The badges are two tables away from her, and yes, of course detective Ward had to arrive with the backup, prolly his partner. One scan on the Kinoshi and the pig gets the name. Detective Han.

Detective Ward is showing his back, but she recognizes his coat and the earring, and detective Han doesn’t stop his eyes on her.Why would he? Mercenaries usually work alone, and they are waiting for a man to appear.

V walks in at last in his yellow leather jacket, moving like a solo. Just like Nela, he’s always been on the shorter side and there’s nothing particularly menacing about his appearance, but oh boy, it’s clear he’s armed and a merc.

Detective Han does not hide his disgust at the situation before he takes his leave. It’s apparent he doesn’t like the idea of his partner learning anything more, but detective Ward is like a dog with a bone.

The tug of war between the badge and her brother makes her almost snort. Nela gulps on the last drops of the milkshake and heads outside to get ready.

Detective Han is truly and well gone, and the camera confirms it. Then she also checks what must be detective’s Ward car, a Thorton pickup, not an unusual choice for a plainclothes cop.

Oh, detective Ward won’t be happy once he realizes that V has company.

* * *

Yup. The damn badge clenches his jaw and stares Nela down from his considerable height, as if he didn’t do the same mere minutes ago.

“I thought I made myself clear when I said that I need to know whose ears are listening,” Detective Ward measures his words, looking from her to V, although at least he’s not hurling any threats.

Nela has no fucking intention of going to the precinct.

“That’s my sister,” V says, voice light. “You must forgive he; she was concerned for my safety.”

She shots Alex a murderous glance as detective Ward takes a deep breath. “Get in then, both of you.”

When Alex jumps up onto the backseat, Nela knows her day is far from over.

* * *

Detective Ward shares the information about Péter Horváth, the cyberpsycho who attacked the mayor, and then V decides that Nela can help the cop find more.

“Call me with new information,” V says to them both. “Or when you need a muscle.”

 _Kurwa_.

She rarely curses in the ancestral language, but sometimes it rolls off the tongue better.

Alex speaks even less Polish than her. What’s the point when the community is small and everyone has the translation chip? Right now she wishes she could tell V things the damn badge wouldn’t understand, so she glares instead with all the cold fury she musters.

“I’ve got some place I need to be,” Alex turns to detective Ward, avoiding Nela’s eyes. “She’s smarter than me, anyway.”

And then he fucking leaves.

Wonderful, just what a Heywood girl dreams about, a ride in an unmarked police car with a plainclothes pig. Christ, that is precisely the scenario to avoid.

“So, your brother,” Detective Ward smirks to himself, putting Nela in even more of a sour mood. “Does that happen often that he makes you work his gigs?”

Think of the eddies, she tells herself.

“I gather you have no siblings?” She asks, and the smirk disappears at once.

“Actually,” the man sighs, deflated more than annoyed. “I have a sister, myself.”

“There you go,” Nela sums up.

* * *

To be her dying brother’s sidekick is one thing, to partner up with a pig for an investigation is another.

At least this one is pleasant to look at. Taller than most, thick and built, with a handsome face and in that rugged coat, detective Ward is a sight to behold. Nela has never stooped as low as to fuck a cop, but there’s no hellfire for looking.

He talks a lot, anyway. Funny how that works when Nela stays quiet. Is he trying to kill the silence, is he worried that she won’t behave or is he simply relieved to open up his mouth to any living soul aside from that grumpy partner of his? Who’s to tell, but right now the dear detective teaches her how to handle a case.

Between that and him warning the mayor, he’s the idealist for sure. They are the absolute worse, convinced that their inner goodness not only saves them from the taint of the job, but that it actually saves others.

Christine Markov, Péter Horváth’s employer, knows little, but it is clear that the man was unhinged and someone used him. Not the most valuable information, but they have other leads.

* * *

Perhaps there is no hellfire for ogling a badge, but a bunch of Tyger Claws hurling insults at them comes close to karma.

“Lemme handle this,” detective Ward says.

“Be my guest.”

There’s no worse white knight in those parts of town than a cop, but Nela would like to hold off showing her skills for as long as necessary, and fighting in the open is never a good idea for someone like her.

“Hey, piglet!” One of the men calls. “Got yourself a new little output? Nice big titties,” he turns to her, pointing his chin at her cleavage. “Fucking pigs for business or pleasure?”

Who’s the real pig in this scenario?

Detective Ward, predictable as it is, flaunts his power and threatens to arrest them for Rhyne’s murder, and Nela decides that this time she appreciates that privilege.

“Christ,” she mumbles when they get into his pickup. “Downright dangerous to walk the streets in your company.”

“I’m a cop. Whaddaya think?” He glances at her. “Thanks for letting me handle it. Little less paperwork.”

She snorts, putting on a seatbelt. “Where to now, officer?”

“River,” he offers. “It didn’t escape my attention that you never properly introduced yourself.”

“It ain’t a date, you know.”

“You’re about to meet my CI. I have some responsibility towards the man.”

“What, it bothers you that I ain’t poppin’ in your database?” She raises her eyebrow. “I’m a model citizen.”

To be fair, he shows no sign of irritation. “You already know I’m not supposed to be workin’ the case. You’re cautious, I get that. In your business you must be.”

It doesn’t surprise her either, but she doesn’t rush to follow up.

Just as she assumed, he explains. “Unarmed, no ‘ware I can see, and you keep your hair down. You’re got a good poker face, and you didn’t flinch when the Claws started stirrin’ shit. I know it’s not because you trust me or my skills, so you must be able to handle yourself. Your merc brother asked you to be his backup, and then he flaked on you. You’re a netrunner.”

“Nela,” she looks him in the eyes, one of them an implant. It suits his face.

“Nela,” he repeats. “‘Aight, Nela. Lemme guess. You dislike the pigs, too.”

“I’m from Heywood,” she says, parroting his previous answer. “Whaddaya think?”

River chuckles, starting the car.

* * *

Little coaxing and iron aimed straight at the face loosened up the previously uncooperative CI.

“Funny,” Nela can’t help herself. “When you mentioned that your job consists of 90% talking, you didn’t say how much having someone look at the barrel helps the conversation.”

River huffs a little, getting at the wheel. “It is not always like that. Neil is a spacial case.”

“Sure he is,” she muses. “I’m texting V the deets. Something tells me the Red Queen’s Race will be heavily guarded.”

“Yup,” the man sighs as they drive off. “And I don’t have a warrant.”

She clacks her tongue with disapproval. “So we’re to do the dirty job for you?”

“Hey, you have the contract, don’t ya? Besides, squeak for help and I’ll be there stat.”

“How thoroughly reassuring. It’s on the outskirts?”

“Yup.Forty-five minutes’ drive.”

“The Animals’ turf. Not expecting the warm welcome.”

“Buckle up, buttercup.” River says, and then he shakes his head when Nela makes a face. “I regret saying that.”

The text back comes. “V’s gonna be there.”

“He any good?”

“Depends what you’re looking for, but I’m guessing it’s not diplomacy. Yeah, he’s good.”

They drive in silence as Nela watches the familiar streets of Vista Del Ray when they slowly move towards Ayorro, but the good detective doesn’t last even two minutes without opening his mouth.

Is he really that chatty or has she forgotten how to be social?

“Can I ask you something?” He starts, and it is one of those questions that never leads anywhere good.

“Seeing as I’m locked in your car, I doubt I have a choice,” she notices, and he flusters a little, suddenly awkward.

“Didn’t mean it like that,” he swallows. “Just thought that we could chat. My guess is you don’t talk to cops much.”

“And you don’t talk to the lot like me?” Nela whispers as her body goes stiff. “No shit. Go on then, ask your question.”

There is hesitation on his face now, and somehow it irritates her even more.

“You know, us ‘ _pigs_ ’ are the worst. Worse than the gangs, even Maelstrom. Only the Scavs place lower within the street hierarchy. I get why you dislike the police, I do. I just never got that part.”

“It seems you like you get it, you just disagree.”

“Worse than Maelstrom. Fuck, _really_?”

It is one of those discussions that are smart to avoid, but now Nela irks to answer even though she knows better.

“ _Really_ ,” Nela says, keeping her tone level. “You prolly have been nothing but a badge. The city has its ecosystem. Yeah, there is violence, and the bystanders die, but there is logic to how gangs solve their beefs. You off someone particularly nasty, and often life goes on. NCPD is just another gang, but worse. Worse for its power and impunity. You kill a badge, it matters none how much he deserved it. He might have been be raping little girls on the backseat of his patrol car. Nobody cares. The second a cop gets killed, there will be fifty people to die for it, some of them gangbangers, some of them just wearing a wrong shirt color that day. We deal with our streets better without you, so yeah, people hate badges more than Maelstrom cause you can manage Maelstrom without starting a fucking war. And you know what… how long have you been a cop?”

“Twenty-three years,” he says, and that’s longer than her calculation. He’s older than she thought.

“Twenty-three years,” she repeats, tired. “Twenty-three years, and you ask me to answer you whether police is as fucked up as we say? Don’t you know? However good you think you are, don’t you know the fucked up shit your buddies do on the streets? Every little kid learns why you run away when the cops come, and why never enter the patrol car, and it’s not because their parents do biz on the streets. NCPD has plenty of pervs and creeps getting off of what they can do. Please. I might know more folks roughed up by the badge at the random stop than by any other gang, where at least you learn which streets to avoid. Don’t you think it’s messed up for you to ask me all that? Did you stop yourself to think what my experience might be before opening your mouth?”

“I—,” he tries, and then he clearly bites his tongue. “I’m sorry for asking.”

The silence looms over them. Detective Ward might not be pissed, but at the very least he’s uncomfortable.

“Listen, even the broken clock is right twice a day. Am I sad when you lock up some pedo gangbanger? Nah. But it changes nothing. You might do decent work, River, I just don’t think it cancels out everything else.”

“So you think it doesn’t matter?”

“Might matter to you. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Look at this case. Here we are, you and I, because your investigation got shut. Have you ever thought that badges might be behind Rhyne’s death?”

“Yes,” he answers shortly. “I’m not stupid. I’m just—I don’t know. Forget it.”

“Already forgotten,” Nela agrees, although the tension doesn’t leave her.

They spend the rest of their drive without saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally River makes an appearance, and from now and on he should be in every chapter, and there's going to be even more of original content.
> 
> It makes sense to me that Nela would harbor a lot of anti-police sentiments and she explains it well herself.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope some of you will follow the story :)


	5. Principles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V, Nela and River find out what happens to Rhyne.

V is already waiting for them, leaning on his bike and flashing a smile. Nela tries to guess what has he been up to beforehand, but this is not the time or place for that conversation, and he probably won’t spill the deets, anyway.

“V,” River greets him. “Good to have you here, I suppose.”

“I said I’d be there. That is the place,” Alex points to the building behind them. “I did a quick reckon. There’s a hole in a fence. The Animals patrol the area, but there aren’t too many of them. The club is closed for certain. Not a soul in sight other than the Animals; no cars, nothing. It shouldn’t be a challenge for the three of us.”

“Two of us,” Nela clarifies. “Detective Ward won’t break the law and go in without a warrant.”

The puzzled look on V’s face is worth the comment, but he quickly shrugs off the surprise. “Uh-huh. Fine, then. Guess it’s me and you, sis.”

“I’m not sure what I did do to deserve it,” she mumbles to herself, staring the warehouse. “You know where the cameras are? We ain’t going gun blazing, I can already tell you that.”

“If you’re in any danger,” River crosses his arms. “I’ll be right there. I’’ll be on the comm line, just say the word.”

Nela glances at her brother, who seems rather amused.

“Appreciate it,” V chuckles, turning to take the weapons out of his bike stash. “I’d be ashamed if it came to that.”

He hands Nela the spare holster and the Omaha pistol. She clenches her jaw but accepts the gun. If she needs to use firearms, they will need to call River for help, but for now this is to make Alex comfortable, so she lifts up her tank top and secures the holster belt to her body.

Working in a team means prioritizing trust, and just like her, V has his standards. Their standards rarely match.

“The Red Queen’s Race club is probably in the basement,” River watches them as if unsure about the whole thing.

“No worries,” Alex says. “We know what to do.”

* * *

Her brother asks for help a lot, but to enter the hostile zone together is a different experience. They move slower than he’d like, but in his defense, he doesn’t put up the fight, following Nela’s pace.

How odd. She knows what he does; he knows what she does, and yet it might be the first time she sees him kill someone on the job, although they spare whoever they can. V works mostly as a gun-for-hire, but Nela’s gigs most often don’t require force, relying on stealth, quick hacks and deamons.

This time she kills as well, when Alex gets spotted, before the goon has a chance to react and alert others. One quickhack and he’s down.

V lets out a deep breath, snapping his eyes at her and mouthing ‘thanks’.

Death doesn’t frazzle her, but her throat dries a little.

They find the club in the basement, just as River predicted. V has a chat with the Animals boss as she tells him that Walden Holt ordered smashing up the Red Queen Race club while Nela discovers the BD equipment in one of the booths and holds on to it just in case it might reveal some info. Then V knocks the goon down, and Nela sits down in front of the computer to look through the files.

What fucking gonks ran this operation. All the camera footage is still there. All Nela needs is to look through the dates to find out what happened.

Her heart drops.

That badges would be involved doesn’t surprise her, but to see detective Han right on the screen, talking about covering up the mayor’s death is another matter.

“Fuck,” she says.

“Did you find something?” River asks on the comm, impatient.

“See for yourself,” she sends the data his way. “Tell me you didn’t know your choom was involved,” she adds, although she’s pretty sure of the answer.

There is a long pause.

“What?!” He gasps. “Han, my partner?”

“Yup.”

“Shit, shit,” he mumbles. “ _Fuck_! Fuck, it cannot be. Just get out there, all right?”

“Be right there,” Nela shuts down the comm line.

“Whoah,” V looks at her. “Do you think he knew?”

“River?” She shakes her head. “No. I spent the whole day with him. He might be naïve, but not corrupt. Come on, let’s go. Where were you today?”

“Doing biz,” V answers as if that was supposed to satisfy her. “Thanks for the help, really. I paid 15 k eddies for one info today. That was all I had.”

“Christ,” she scoffs as they move out. “I’ll make a transfer for you.”

“I’ll pay you back after I get the eddies from the Peralezes,” he says. “I promise, Nela.”

“Stop it, Alex,” she cuts him off. “I ask for splitting payments on the matter of principal. I still gotta cover rent and eat something, but you know I’ll help you out however I can.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna be heading to the Badlands soon. It’s my main lead right now to find more about the relic.”

Nela hates the Badlands enough to avoid them like the plague. “Just let me know that you’re alive from time to time, dammit.”

“Will do. You mind dealing with detective Ward after we leave? I’ll get home, catch some sleep and catch up with Elizabeth Peralez first thing in the morning.”

Nela sighs. “Yeah, I’ll see it through.”

* * *

It is the first time Nela sees detective Ward truly furious. V already left, but they are still sitting in his pickup up, hidden under the underpass. They should be moving, but he’s breathing heavily, nose flared, looking down and squeezing the driving wheel so hard that his knuckles get pale.

It is better to let him mull over what just happened.

“ _Fuck_ ,” River says in such astonishment that Nela feels pity. “How did I not know? I see Han every day. I know there’s corruption within the NCPD, trust me. I was told to drop many cases throughout the years, and I have a reputation of a shit-stirrer, but I trusted Han. He’s been my partner for ears. Fuck! You must think I’m an idiot.”

“He didn’t want you to know,” she mutters, reaching out to the inner flap of her jacket to pull out the BD set. “By the way, I found it in the same booth Rhyne was using when he died. I don’t know if it will give us more info, but wanna check it out?”

“Yeah,” he rasps in anticipation as Nela puts on the headset, watching the lights flash.

The pain grips her, her muscle seize, and she screams.

“Nela, fuck, wake up,” River’s hands are on her, and he taps her cheek with his bio fingers.

He’s kneeling above her and she feels the ground underneath her back. He must have pulled her out of the car after she passed out.

“Shit,” he says. “You hear me now?”

She nods, closing her eyes for a second before she makes an attempt to sit down. River helps, letting her grip onto his coat.

“You okay?” He asks, studying her face.

“Mhm, I’m fine,” she decides after a moment of heavy breathing. “Now we know for sure how Rhyne died. Spiked BD. An expensive way to off someone.”

“Fuck. I knew that it wouldn’t be just a cover up because Rhyne died in unsavory circumstances and Holt wanted to run on his ticket, inheriting all the endorsements. I suspected it was a murder from the start. Power, the tritest and oldest motive it the books. Holt must have ordered the hit and then used the NCPD and the Animals to cover his tracks,” River says while Nela still holds on to him. “Can you stand up?”

“Yeah,” she nods, although her legs are shaking in the aftershocks, her body still reliving the pain.

River helps her to the car, even putting on her seatbelt while Nela tries to shake off the experience. “There you go. You really think you’re gonna be fine?”

“Yes, I’ll see the ripper tomorrow,” she glances at him as he squats by the door on the passenger side. “Thank you, River. I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t spring to action.”

“Of course,” he smiles and still dazed, Nela stares into his handsome face as if caught in some teenage dream. Close calls always turn her brain into a horny mush, a terrible defense mechanism.

“Would be a nightmare of a paperwork if I died on you,” she jokes to snap herself out of it, and he only shakes his head, shutting the door and getting in the driver’s seat.

“Where do you need me to drop you off?” He asks softly.

The anger must still be there, but it turned quiet.

“Chubby Buffalo. My bike is there.”

“Will you be okay riding it?

“Yes, _officer_ ,” she grunts and the car finally moves. “What are you gonna about all of this?”

“Can’t leave it like that,” he says with determination. “Won’t leave it like that. Han might have not been told what he was covering up exactly, but there’s no excuse. The brass is involved in it, too. I’ll take to to the IA. With all the evidence, they will listen.”

Sweet Christ, he never learns, does he?

“It’s all circumstantial,” she can’t help herself.

“It’s enough to open the investigation. Wait, you think I should just let it go?”

Nela thinks how to phrase her thoughts. “I think taking it to the IA will hurt only you in the end. River, the mayor got murdered, and it wasn’t even the first attempt. I am sure Holt paid off Péter Horváth who would have zeroed Rhyne if you weren’t there that day. This shit is well above your head.”

“Come on, Nela,” he glances at her with disbelief. “Don’t you have some principles?”

It stings more than it should have.

“Because I disagree with you?” She turns away, hiding the hurt. “I have principles, all right. I also seem to have more self-preservation than you. At best, you’re gonna get in trouble. You’re two years away from hitting twenty-five years on the force. That’s your future pension. At worst… They offed the mayor. You really think they wouldn’t off a badge who causes too much stink? _Please_. Don’t you have someone waiting for you at home to tell you that you shouldn’t sacrifice yourself?”

“It’s just me,” he breathes. “I gotta try. I’m no better than any of them if I let it slide. I gotta poke at this. I have friends in the IA.”

“Friends like your partner?” Nela snaps and River clenches his jaw.

“You don’t hold your punches, do you?”

“Consider me sentimental, but I don’t wish to read in a month that you blew your head off because of work stress or whatever cover up they’d set up for you.”

“I’m touched,” River sighs.

“Listen, I know it’s in vain and you’ll do whatever you think is right.”

“I still believe there are people who care. You really think the NCPD can’t be changed?”

“I have yet to see the police reform itself, so the answer is no. It is a nice concept to believe there’s someone to protect and serve, but the reality? Look at the history, look at the present. Who do you protect, whom do you serve? You might try doing what’s right, but there are hundred others badges who do the opposite and they don’t care about your principles,” she explains, but then once look at his face and she knows she’s wasting her time. “Even after today, you still hold on to your ideals?”

“I can’t shake it off, sorry.”

“Whatever it’s worth, I wish you luck, River. I mean it.”

He gives her a small, sad smile. “I’ll take that.”

* * *

It is a middle of the night when they arrive at the parking lot of Chubby Buffalo.

“Thanks for today,” River says. “I wouldn’t have found out the truth without you.”

“Thank you coming to my rescue once again. I owe you a drink if not two,” Nela smirks. Drinking with a badge is a bad idea, but what the hell? “Actually, would you like to get a drink now? It seems we both could use it.”

He blinks with his organic eye, as if Nela caught him in surprise. Well, she surprised herself, too.

“I can’t,” he replies. “Gotta ping Han, deal with this all. Thanks, though. Appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” She says, not sure where the disappointment comes from. “Hang in there, River.”

“You too, Nela,” He whispers as she opens the door to disappear into the night.

His truck is still in the parking lot when she leaves.

It’s been too long of a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nela would definitely tell River not to go to the IA.
> 
> And yes, he refused the drink, but the story doesn't end here.
> 
> The next chapter won't be dealing with "the Hunt", and there will be quite a lot of content before we get to this part, so expect a different storyline and some more quiet, intimate moments.


	6. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela and River meet again

**I should have let you take me out for that drink**

The text from River arrives in the late afternoon as Nela finally reaches home after the gig for Wakako that involved helping another netrunner. Those jobs always remind her of all the ways her life could end, leaving a bitter aftertaste of fear.

It’s been five days since they solved the mystery of the mayor’s death. Nela wondered how it all ended for detective Ward. He’s still among the living, but she can already tell from his message that he hasn’t been having a great time.

She should ignore the text or brush him off. They did one gig together, and he’s a badge. Still, he saved her, and she already asked him out.

Perhaps she’s just lonely. All her thoughts revolve around V, and he’s still holed up in the Badlands, refusing to spill any info. All Nela does is work and obsess, wondering which time she talks with her brother will be the last.

So what if detective Ward needs a distraction? She needs one, too.

Easy answer: **The offer still stands ;)**

The reply comes in an instant: **Prime. 9 pm at Kissin’ Sisters in the Glen?**

Nela smiles to herself: **See you there**

* * *

The last time she went out was with Jackie, V, Misty and a couple of other folks. It couldn’t have been longer than several weeks ago, and yet it seems the whole lifetime ago.

The time no longer moves the way Nela expects. Instead, it jumps up and down; it twists and turns. Some days pass so quickly she forgets to reflect, but some drag instead, painful and heavy on her soul.

Yeah, she’s been lonely for a long time now, but the thought of losing the last of the family hits like no other pain. V was supposed to be the lucky one, the one who claims this city instead of getting swallowed whole by it.

Now he does his own thing, keeping her at a distance, and Nela can’t force him to share anything more.

Her body feels numb. Her mind feels numb. Her heart feels numb. She fights to diverge her attention, to ease her mind, to feel something, and to not acting fucking stupid chasing it all.

She could have reached out to friends, but they all know her too well. There’s only as much as she can hide. They would ask questions that Nela can’t answer and won’t answer. She could reach out to Misty, but they wouldn’t escape the grief. Tonight, she wishes for liberation. She could pick a stranger in a bar, but there’s labor to it, and she doesn’t enjoy inviting them here.

There are worse ideas that drinking with a badge. Perhaps not that many worse ideas, but Nela can think of worse things she could be doing now.

Even as she’s putting on a tight mini dress with spaghetti straps and high heel sandals. Perhaps it’s a vanity to want to see if River’s eyes twinkle at the sight of her. Perhaps it’s because he is a fine looking man.

Perhaps it’s this city, so large and loud that having someone notice you brings solace, even if for a moment.

She draws the line at fussing with her hair. Freshly wash and dried they turn into loose, messy curls, and Nela uses only a bit of mousse for them to keep shape. Then the make up comes, the smokey eye and the pink lipstick, and she begins feeling silly about the whole ordeal.

It is not a date, and it would never be a date. He’s a cop, and Nela has standards, so there is something pathetic about all this effort, but she’s already too far gone to stop now.

The pink fur jacket, matching her hair color, finishes the look.

The wave of embarrassment floods her, and Nela curses under her breath as she opens the door of her apartment.

* * *

It’s been some time since she was walking in high heels, Nela thinks, going up the stairs of the subway station. The bar River chose for a meetup is fifteen minutes from the Chubby Buffalo. It would make sense for him to work the nearby precinct and live not far from here.

He’s waiting outside the bar; tall, big and broody, wearing weathered jeans and the same old coat.

For fuck’s sake, Nela bites her lip. She’s all dolled-up, looking ridiculous, and he probably hasn’t even taken a shower.

“Hey, Nela,” he says, straightening her back as she approaches, and his eyes sliding on her her body.

“Hey,” she says, now self-conscious.

There’s tiredness on his face, the one that digs deeper than the lack of sleep. Easy to tell for Nela when she shares the affliction. Something happened.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, and she notices his organic eye is now bloodshot.

Christ, out of every horrible weakness Nela could have, this is her worst one. A man, looking at her like a beaten puppy, hoping for her to listen and comfort him. She’s done this shit too many times in her life, and here she is again, all out of her own volition.

“I’m fine,” she gives him a faint smile, and for a split second she wonders how it would be to flood him with all her worries and sadness, but she knows better. “Better tell me how you’ve been doing because I gotta tell you, you look awful.”

It earns her a smirk. “Been better, prolly not hard to tell,” he holds the door for her as they walk inside. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’ve earned that drink,” she keeps her tone casual as they approach by the bar. “Claim your reward. What’s your poison?”

“I’ll just a get a beer,” River says absentmindedly, looking around. “Would you like go sitting in the booth?”

“Okay,” she says, and orders a raspberry vodka soda.

It’s clear that River won’t settle until they talk, and yet he doesn’t know how to start. Typical. Nela doubts the badges discuss much of their feelings, and she already guesses that reporting his partner to the IA didn’t go well.

He takes off his coat, and they sit down. He shifts in his seat a lot.

“What happened?” She asks him with no ceremony. “Let it all out.”

“I got fired,” he rasps, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Or I quit, I should say, though they didn’t leave me much choice. I guess you were right after all.”

Figures. It doesn’t surprise her, but there’s no joy in gloating.

“I went to the IA so certain that they’d listen. Instead, they hit me with the list of my own transgressions, like working the case in the first place. They took all the evidence and offered me a suspension. I fucking quit on the spot. I guess something broke inside of me, you know? Sometimes I kept the blind eye on minor things, but this? I couldn’t imagine walking back there and pretending I’m doing something good, so I handed off my badge.”

“Wow,” she gasps, because she expected many things, but not that he’d quit, even by force. “That’s rough.”

“I know what you must be thinking,” his hands fidget. “I’ve been replaying our conversation over and over again. I’ve seen some shit over the years, I’ve made some enemies, I’ve upset the brass, but I’ve always held on to the thought that my work is important. You know, like it was me against the system, me doing what’s necessary for the greater good. I liked the job, too. Not the paperwork and the administrative bullshit, but the investigative work. If I’m honest, part of of me wonders whether I’ve quit earlier if I didn’t enjoy being a cop.”

“When did it all happen?”

“Three days ago,” he exhales loudly. “I’ve been sitting on my ass, mopin’.”

“Do you wanna try to get reinstated?”

“No,” River sighs, tapping his hand on his knee. “I could try, I guess, but I wouldn’t be able to move past it and I think they wouldn’t be able to trust me again. I’d get a desk job and the bitter taste in my mouth that I’m no better than that. Maybe I’m not. I dunno. I’m not coming back. It’s just… this is all I’ve ever known.”

“It shouldn’t be hard to move into the private sector,” she lifts the glass to her mouth, and the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet synth flavor of raspberries warms her up. “Especially if you haven’t burned all the bridges just yet. Having contacts in the NCPD might give you an edge if you wanna take the PI route. Unless you’re planning on working in security.”

“Fuck no,” he actually smiles, looking at her face for the first time since they’ve started the conversation. “I’m sorry for pinging you all of a sudden. I’m not good at sharing what’s biting my ass, but I just wanted to talk, and frankly, I don’t have anyone else to open my mouth to. All of my friends were cops.”

“It’s fine, River. I’ve seen it before, not with the cops, but with other gangs,” he winces at her words, but she doesn’t let up. “I know you disagree, but there isn’t as much of a difference. Leaving what you’ve known is painful and hard, especially when there’s betrayal involved, and you grieve over how wrong you were. The only thing to do is to focus on your own thing. The transition will be messy, but it might not be as bad as you think. Give it time.”

“Speaking from experience?” He asks.

“If you’re trying to sniff around whether I’ve ever been in a gang, the answer is no,” she raises her eyebrows.

“I noticed the ink,” his eyes graze to the rose below her collarbone. “The Valentinos aesthetics.”

“I’m from Heywood,” she sneers, half-embarrassed. “Whaddaya expect? Every single boyfriend from my teens to early twenties was a Valentino.”

“Yikes,” he frowns, giving a short laugh.

“Bold of you to judge in your current predicament,” Nela retorts. “Especially as I came here for you, violating the foremost rule of the street code to never fraternize with a pig.”

“ _Former_ pig,” he clarifies, finishing off his beer. “Is that better for fraternization?”

“Mighty better,” Nela admits.

* * *

Something shifts when River hands her another raspberry vodka soda and sits back in the booth. The air feels warmer and the pleasant jolt travels down Nela’s spine.

He’s no longer a badge, and that means that Nela no longer can hide that the fact that she’s here in a tight little dress has a lot to do with how smooth River’s voice is and how strong his arms are and how soft his lips appear.

She slides the fur jacket off her arms to cool herself, and to see whether he’d look, but oh, he does. The pause is short and subtle, but he freezes for a split second, letting his eyes linger on her body.

“I feel like you know so much about me and I know nothing of you,” River says, relaxing in his seat.

“That’s always been the case,” Nela says. “Apparently I didn’t speak until I was four years old. I like my quiet, if there’s even such thing as true quiet in this city. Did you grow up here?”

“You’re doing it again,” he rubs his neck. “Asking questions instead of answering them. You’d make a decent badge.”

She scoffs, even though she knows he’s teasing. “Please don’t insult me.”

“Right. Yeah. At first I lived at the farm in the Badlands, then Ayorro.”

“Now Heywood?”

“I got assigned to the Glen precinct right after the police school. I know what you’re doing, Nela, asking me all this when I don’t even know your last name.”

“Vitkovski.”

“I guess I know where your bother’s moniker comes from. Vitkovski. Is that Russian?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Polish. Anglicized. Our old man prioritized the proper pronunciation over spelling. Also yes, V is an asshole who decided to steal the name for himself and turn it into his shiny identity.”

“Nice to learn something about you.”

“I’m not as secretive as you think, really. You’re just the chatty one.”

“Rarely people accuse me of chattiness,” he looks at her with warmth. “But I’ll take it. Your parents were immigrants, I guess?”

“Yeah, both of them from Poland. My father came in with my grandma during the resettlement. My mother arrived in the midst of reclamation and the economic boom. She died when I was seven. What about you?”

“Cherokee,” he taps the necklace on his chest. “My parents died when I was a kid, though. I was raised within the system.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, River,” Nela whispers, wishing it wouldn’t be such a common experience.

“Me too, believe me,” he mutters, taking a deep breath, and Nela sees the pain hiding behind it. She won’t pry, she never does unless it’s with V. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“Please,” she says, taking a sip of her vodka cocktail. “What’s the point of drinking if we don’t drown in melancholy?”

The comment must have amused him, because River smiles and some tension escapes his shoulders. “I’ve been drowning in melancholy for three days and it was a rather miserable experience.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” she buries her hand into her hair, leaning on her elbow and turning her body closer to him. “Misery loves company.”

* * *

When they walk outside the bar, Nela feels the slight buzz of alcohol in her veins, but she’s far from drunk. The cool air of the night hits her exposed neck, and she shudders just a little.

River turns towards her, standing two steps below her, making her taller than him.

The city bursts with noise and life, but for a split second the world quiets down when Nela reaches out for River’s hand and brushes her fingertips against his.

He doesn’t rush, interlocking their fingers, moving closer, touching her hair with his cyber hand, leaning in.

She kisses him first, and it is sweet and gentle, more of a question. His lips are soft, just as she suspected. He tastes of beer and smells of leather, and musk and cheap deodorant, and yet Nela craves his scent, and yet she pushes to get more of his taste.

River lets go of her hand and moves to hold her waist, inviting her into his embrace. His body presses against her; large and warm and welcoming.

Someone whistles at them, and Nela pulls away to giggle, hiding her face in the fur of his coat.

“I live right around the block,” River rasps when she lifts up her eyes to look at him.

It’s a question, not a statement, that much is clear.

Loneliness pours out of him, but Nela's own sadness can match that. After all, that’s why they’re here, strangers seeking the speckle of connection.

“Let’s go then,” Nela breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no info I can find of what is exactly River's heritage, but after some research and reading I thought it would be more appropriate to give him the specific identity instead of treating Native American identity as a one whole thing. I have little specific knowledge, and I chose Cherokee identity, but if any reader has more information I would be glad to change it. I always try to do research and take appropriate steps when portraying BIPOC characters, but I know I might fall short and this is new for me. It's clear to me that River's identity is strong and important to him, and yet in the game he never talks about it outright. Anyway, please always be comfortable with correcting me whenever I write something wrong, and I promise I will treat your comments seriously and with care.
> 
> Thank you so much. :)
> 
> Also, the next chapter will contain some smut.


	7. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela and River spend the night together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!
> 
> CW: lots of sex, consensual spanking

River’s apartment is a typical shitty ‘bedroom’ the shitty landlords offer in this city. One room with a kitchen annex by the entrance. Table, two chairs, some in-built storage, tv on the wall, a desk by the window and the large bed placed in the middle of the wall. No sofa; River must invite the guest for one purpose only.

It’s messy. The bed’s disheveled with several empty beer bottles lying nearby, the presumably dirty clothes are on the floor, empty take out boxes rest on the kitchen counter and the sink is full of dishes.

“Shit, sorry for all that,” River says right away. “I didn’t think the night would end up here. Uhm, may I take your jacket?”

“Yeah,” Nela likes both the old-fashioned commitment to manners and the way his hands feel when removes the fur off her shoulders. He lays the jacket on the back of the chair while tossing his coat carelessly on the table. “So, you didn’t think we’d end up here when you texted?”

“No,” he admits when she turns to face him, placing her hands on his chest. “Doesn’t mean that the thought didn’t cross my mind. Are you telling me you showed up with an idea of fucking a cop?”

“I wouldn’t,” she giggles into his mouth, and then they kiss hungrily, and Rivers hand land on her waist. “I promise you that. But have I thought about it? Yeah, I have.”

“Mhm,” he grunts, reaching for her ass and squeezing it. “I’m seeing the benefits of the sudden unemployment.”

“Wise choice, I assure you,” Nela teases between kisses, wiggling her fingers underneath his shirt to feel the hard muscles and the heat of his skin.

The arousal grasps Nela in almost a painful clutch. Her blood boils, warming up every cell of her body.

“Please tell me you have condoms,” she says, digging her fingers into River’s back.

“Sure I have,” he groans, pulling away to glance at her face. His organic eye is hazed with want, exactly the way Nela needs to be looked at tonight. “Wanna move to a bed?”

“Give me a sec to go to the bathroom,” she flashes him a smile. “Then I’m all yours.”

“Prime,” River grins in response.

* * *

The downside of one-night stands is that a girl can never be sure if a guy will be a decent fuck, or decent in any way. To be honest, quite often it’s more work than it’s worth, but tonight Nela wishes to let go and forget the world.

The upside of one-night stands is that it’s necessary to be direct and thus easy to be bold.

She walks out of the bathroom naked; the underwear stuffed in the purse, the dress and the shoes in her hand.

River isn’t even looking. Instead, he’s moving fast, frantically picking up the dirty laundry off the floor to toss it into a hamper. Quite endearing.

She puts her dress and shoes on the chair, and then stifles her laughter, waiting for him to notice her.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he blurts when he finally does, his eyes moving from her face to her breasts to her cunt.

“I intend to,” she declares, stepping closer.

“Nela, you are a gorgeous woman,” he says, and he doesn’t even need to when he stares at her like that.

Nela knows she’s pretty, but she also knows she doesn’t look like she used to. She keeps fit, but she weights more than a few years ago, and her tits are no longer as perky as at twenty-years-old. In the world when everyone tries to appear perpetually eighteen and one can change every part of their physique, it’s nice to witness such an obvious delight.

“Thanks. You’re attractive too and I wanna see all of you,” she says, getting on the bed to kneel in front of him. “Now, why are you still dressed?”

River doesn’t need to be asked twice.

* * *

Nela wouldn’t mind rushing; her body is taunt with want, but River savors every kiss, every touch. His organic hand is warm and a bit rough to the touch, his cyber one cool and smooth, both playing with her tits before he lowers his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

The joyful shivers spread around her body, and Nela closes her eyes, letting the pleasure build.

He smells fucking good too; spicy and peppery, and the whiff of his sweat only makes her more horny.

When he brushes her cunt, she is drenched, pushing her hips into his hand.

“It’s cute you hair is pink here, too,” he says as if a bit amused.

It sure is an overkill to dye pubic hair, but Nela likes for it to match.

“Yeah?” She breathes as he trails kisses down her stomach, all while still teasing his fingers at her folds. “You look like a man who appreciates a full bush.”

He laughs, getting lower and lower, and his hot breath teases her. “I do. In fact, that’s my preference.”

“River,” Nela whispers. “ _Please_.”

She thinks he’d eat her out just as a foreplay, but her moans increase and he simply doesn’t stop, strong arms around her thighs, tongue between her legs. She places her feet on his back, asking him if that’s okay, then she scratches the top of her head as he groans.

The orgasm hits fast; the sweet, pulsating pleasure that scratches an itch and soothes Nela’s soul.

River looks at her with such pride that she almost laughs, but he’s done so well.

“Good?” He asks, and now Nela knows he likes praise.

“Preem,” she whispers, lifting herself to pull him in for a messy kiss.

He really has a sexy smile and perfect lips, and he makes a delicious rumbling sound when Nela runs her tongue over his neck and then places kisses on his chest, shaven smooth.

It feels so nice to touch someone, to feel someone real and alive underneath her fingers, to share in on the tenderness, and what they do is surprisingly tender.

* * *

River makes a lot of noise when his cock fills her mouth. Loud as a generator, he grunts, and growls, and moans. He doesn’t say any words, but still he might be the loudest man she’s ever been with, and his obvious pleasure turns Nela on a lot.

He caresses her hair and cheek, polite and gentle, and yet stares at her with such obvious lust.

“Stop,” he says, and she pulls away. “I’m not twenty, I can’t come twice, and I want your pussy.”

Nela giggles, wrapping her arms around him to kiss him. “If you think I’m twenty, I’m bound to disappoint you.”

“I turned forty-two two weeks ago,” he mumbles, squeezing her breast as he kisses her back. “Pretty sure you’re younger than me.”

“No more teasing, River,” she pleads. “Come on.”

She lays on her back, legs spread in an invitation, watching him to put a condom on, and then he crawls above her, big and burly and magnificent.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps when he slowly enters her with a groan on his lips.

She can barely wrap her thighs around him, but it works, and he thrusts deep, his necklace tickling between her breasts.

Shit, he feels good.

Terrible, embarrassing thought comes to Nela’s mind, one she’d never admit out loud, but maybe if he didn’t lose his job she’d still fuck him tonight.

* * *

“Mhm,” River says with approval after she gets on her hands and knees for him. “Question: how do you feel about spanking?”

_Oh?_

“I like it,” Nela says, biting her lower lip in anticipation. “Not too rough, though.”

He smacks her ass twice, making her gasp, and he caresses it. Then he does it again, and once more before she practically begs him to fill her.

He does so in a steady rhythm, not too slow and not too fast, deep, finding all the sweet spots that make her whimper out of pleasure.

She is to reach her hand to stroke her clit; she won’t come without it, but before she does, River moves his cyber hand to touch her there.

“Oh, River,” she gasps at the sensation, always a little odd when someone has cyberware.

“I got you, babe,” he strains in between thrust. “It’s an old tech, but I’ve learned a few tricks.”

And then the thumb on her clit vibrates, and Nela mewls, dropping her elbows to hide her face in the mattress.

“Too much?”

“No, no, it’s preem, don’t stop,” she breathes as he continues to fuck her, all while working wonders with his fingers.

He draws a hard, toe-curling orgasm from her, the kind that makes her scream and claw at the sheets, the kind that takes her breath away, the kind that melts her into a puddle.

She’s so wet and mellow in the aftershocks of pleasure when he snaps his hips to finish with a low, long moan.

“You’re all right?” He asks as he pulls out right away to deal with the condom, and Nela nods in response, collapsed in wondrous exhaustion, eyes closed.

Christ, but she needed that. A catharsis that brought her back to her own body.

The bed sinks under his weight when he lies next to her, brushing his hand against her cheek. She opens her eyes to see his face covered with a thin layer of sweat. His breathing’s deeper and he’s looking mighty happier than before.

“You were right about the company,” he says as they smile to each other.

“Mhm,” she agrees, putting her hand on his chest.

Would it be too much to snuggle up to him? Sex, especially good sex, always makes Nela clingy and mushy, and it hasn’t worked great in the past.

River doesn’t seem to share her worry when he pulls her closer to place a kiss on her forehead. Well, she might as well cuddle up to him, and she does, letting him wrap his strong arms around her.

It’s lovely, a tad too lovely perhaps, but there’s some relief in being held like this, even if the moment is fleeting.

“Hungry?” He asks after a short while. “I admit I am. May I offer you some instant ramen? I spruce it app by adding toppings. Best instant ramen you’ve ever had, I bet.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Nela says, sitting up. “Do you have a shirt I could wear?”

“Yup,” he gets up, still naked, and takes a few steps to open up the storage to pull out the sweatpants for himself and the tank top he tosses at her. “I thought you might like this.”

She lifts up the top and snorts. Black and sleeveless, it shows the bright pink “ _Fuck The Police_ ” slogan and the pin-up style woman wearing the NCPD jacket.

“That’s absolutely terrible and sexist,” Nela decides, giggling anyway.

“Want another one?” He laughs, but she puts it on.

“Is that a freebie you give to all the women you fuck?” She stands up, and the tank falls down to cover her butt.

“Just you. Limited edition. You can keep it.”

“I will,” she walks to the bathroom, passing by and smacking his ass, earning herself a smile.

“Food will be ready in a moment,” River says.

Damn it, Nela thinks, sitting on the toilet to pee. She should delta the fuck out of here. That River’s good in bed is one matter, but the aura of domesticity always turns her into a gonk, and the last thing she needs right now is to want to see him again. It must be a one-time thing.

She takes a deep breath, washes her hands and face with cold water to prime herself to remain cool and collected.

River doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know him.

“Food’s ready,” he announces, putting two bowls on the plastic cutting board serving as a tray and carries it to bed. “Spicy chicken ramen with tofu, bacon bits and scallions coming right up, all synthetic and natural flavors.”

“Prime,” Nela smiles, because who wouldn’t? “Mhm,” she stuffs her mouth full of noodles and nods with approval as River clearly waits for her reaction.

“Told ya,” he says, not hiding his good mood.

Christ, a lot of men act like that, wanting to impress and earn the praise, and clearly the former detective is not the exception from those basic patterns, but somehow he is quite cute doing it all. Perhaps because he seems sweet, and he takes teasing in stride.

Nela wonders if he really is that adorable or what dark shit hides behind all that, but not once has he made her uncomfortable, and that in itself is not a given in this fucking city.

“You seem way more relaxed now,” River notices, looking at her. “Although there’s still something sad about you.”

“Cop intuition?” She deflects, but it doesn’t phase him.

“Just givin’ you an opening to say more,” he says.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she shrugs, accidentally slurping on the soup. “Sorry.”

River slurps too, and so they sit there on the bed, both creating mess while eating. Nela decides she can let go for a little longer.

He passes her water to drink and brings in more blankets, and before Nela realizes, she is a little spoon in River’s arms, watching some random tv show about tinkering.

The noises of the city reach through the thin walls of the building, the prime example of the sub-par architecture, and yet Nela feels secure and warm.

She falls asleep fast.

* * *

Nela stirs, waking up and opening her eyes. River’s arm is around her waist, holding onto her in a greedy embrace. He’s snoring and mumbling something, warm like a radiator.

It’s time to go before she gets used to it.

She moves his hand, wanting to sneak out, but he has a light sleep.

“You’re leaving?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” she says, running her fingers onto his sleepy cheek and thinking that she might miss how handsome his face is. “Gotta go back to the real world. I have a couple of gigs,” she swallows, aware that she should just tell him this won’t happen again, but push comes to shove she cannot bring herself to say the words. “I’ll be really busy, so…,” she finishes, hoping he gets a hint without making it too final.

He lifts his elbows and studies her face, so adorable in his slumber. “Well, you know where to find me,” he says noncommittally, and it’s probably the best way to end it.

Aside from the kiss, and Nela gives him that final goodbye kiss, the one she hopes he’ll think about from time to time.

“I had a lot of fun,” she says. “Take care, all right?”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, laying back on the bed and smiling. “Thanks for everything. You’re really great. Take care, Nela.”

She changes back into her dress, taking the ‘ _Fuck The Police’_ top as a souvenir, and then she leaves River’s apartment to face the city again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am absolutely thrilled to receive the comments :)
> 
> Anyway, don't worry, the story doesn't end here, we've barely scratched it. I hope you enjoyed the smut, anyway. Also, have you noticed how often River says in the game that something is "the best you've ever had?" He so obviously craves praise. He says it about Jambalaya (that we know he found the recipe online for), he says it about the views on the water tower, about the coffee in the morning, he even fishes for sex compliments. I wanted to make Nela see right through it but she still finds it endearing because River is sweet and nice on top of it all. 
> 
> I am hoping you're excited for the rest of the story. 
> 
> Also yes, I imagine many people imagine River younger, but I remember checking his info on the Wiki page before the took it down and it said "forty-something" and I actually believe he could be either in his late thirties or early forties. Why not?
> 
> Thank you once again


	8. Appetite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela resolves not to reach out to River again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mild sexual thoughts

**Hey, it’s River, just checking how you’re doing.**

**_Hi, I’m fine, just busy with all the work. How are you?_**

**Listen, I can take a hint. Just wanted to let you know that I’m not looking for anything serious if you were worried about that. If you’re ever interested in the round two, just let me know ;)**

**_Oh, l’ll remember that ;)_**

Of course Nela is interested in the round two, but this exchange alone is a glaring warning sign on why this would be the worst idea. River’s not looking for anything serious, and honestly, at his age and with his past employment? He would have been married already if he was.

Nela isn’t looking for a relationship either, except that if she continues sleeping with him, she will catch feelings. Historically, that is what always happened, and it led to a couple of disasters.

Besides, V needs her, even if he ignored her calls the whole weekend.

Finally, after what seems like the hundredth time, he appears on the holo.

“What the fuck?” Nela asks, not hiding her anger. “You promised to keep me in the loop!”

“I was busy,” Alex says, as if that was enough of an explanation. “Listen, I’ve got help here and a good plan of action. I’m staying in the Badlands for a bit longer.”

The female voice laughs in the background, shouting V’s name.

“You working or passing time?” Nela sighs, trying to prevent herself from erupting in anger.

It would be easy for Alex to choose the last moments of fun instead of trying to save himself, and how could Nela force him to do otherwise? He’s dying, searching for a miracle. If he wants to hole himself up in some motel in the Badlands with a girl, it should be up to him, and yet Nela has the urge to drive up and get him out of there.

“It’s work,” he nods, undeterred by the interrogation. “I got help of the merc Rogue herself recommended. We’re helping each other in fact, quid pro quo.”

“Do you need anything before I head out?”

“Not anytime soon. You know I like the Badlands. My kind of world, to be honest. Guns, cars and grenades.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she grits her teeth. “Do come back in one piece, all right? I’m not ready for any goodbyes.”

“I hear you loud and clear. Just wait for my call the next time. We’re planning something big and I’ll be out of touch.”

How is she not to worry when he says something like that?

“Christ, V, what is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll learn. All is under control, Nela. Don’t worry. What’s your plan for today?”

“Biz for Padre. I’m going out in a minute.”

“Stay safe,” V says, and she is to thank him when he adds: “See how easy it is? I trust you to take care of yourself, and you act like a mother hen.”

Yeah, because she didn’t cause a shitstorm during the heist to rob Arasaka, resulting in the Silverhand parasite occupying her brain.

“I wonder why,” she hisses. “Anyway, good luck, V.”

“Oh, did I piss you off? Don’t worry, Nela, for real. We’ll catch up.”

“Mhm, fine. Take care, Alex.”

It’s easy for him to tell her not to worry when his whole life it was her job to mother him, even when she was a child herself. He’ll never understand how it was. He’ll never understand how she feels. Right now, he acts like she’s a nuisance, but the second he needs something from her, he expects her to be on standby.

She loves him, all right. She does. But there’s anger underneath all of that. Anger that he’ll die. Leaving the city was one thing, but dying? That’s almost unforgivable, and yet Nela is aware that she has no right to her fury.

The only thing to do is to drown in work. Otherwise she’ll drown in the vortex of her emotions.

* * *

Nela does more than half of the work from the privacy of her apartment, but she accepts other gigs, too. Her specialty is remote access and camera control, and as long as she’s careful, she’s comfortable taking jobs requiring stealth in person .

Well, depending on the fixer. There’s more she does for Padre, because there was a time when he did much for her. There are favors one doesn’t forget.

Today she is to dabble in a political mess once more, finding dirt on the mayoral advisor, Javier Alvarado. What brought this on Padre’s radar, Nela doesn’t ask. She knows better.

She also knows better than to think of the last time she dipped into the Night City politics. Her little investigation with River. Now she’s thinking of him like a teenage girl with a crush, and because of what? He fucked her good, made her instant soup and let her sleep in his bed.

Nela grunts in frustration. That is the classic case of low standards, and she is no better from thousands of other Heywood pick-me women, so starved for any real connection that they cling to whatever scraps come their way.

No, thank you. At best, it leads to tears and wounded pride. At worst, it leads to broken ribs and the pricy bill from the shady ripperdoc.

Work. That is her focus.

The joint she needs to break in is run by the Valentinos. Let’s be clear, street solidarity doesn’t mean that biz doesn’t require gigs like this. As long as she doesn’t spill the blood or get spotted, everything will be fine.

Many don’t have patience for a proper stealth job. Too difficult, takes too much time. It is easy to waste the few hours on what might not work out. Nela circles the restaurant, climbing onto nearby brownstones fire escapes and hacking into the cameras to deactivate them as needed.

That part is fun. Cyberdeck that cost more than three years’ rent, and she is a fucking wizard. Some people are born with such talent, but it took her many years of grinding to get the top skills.

Most netrunners go work for the corpos or sooner or later try some revolutionary shit. It’s always ego and dreams of being the legend. Not everyone is satisfied by doing the same lousy gigs, but Nela can live like that.

It’s the only way to live. Nothing kills as fast in this city as unbridled ambition.

Nela likes it simple. Simple is her motto. Don’t overspend, don’t hoard either, that’s for the corpo rats. Invest in mind and body so they can last for a long time.

One day she will be too old to jump up through the windows of the run down restaurant like El Pinche Pollo, but making it to that age will be an achievement on its own.

There are a lot of gangers inside, and her adrenaline rises. The key is to wait for the right moment, and quietly take what she came for, and disappear into the thin air.

Somehow Nela doesn’t think this is V’s plan with the big job he mentioned. Let’s hope she doesn’t hear of another mess on the news.

At the end, there’s only one ganger she treats with a daemon. He never saw her, and he’ll survive. She takes the data from the computer and erases any potential signs of her presence.

She also takes the cash lying around and the contents of the safe. That’s her bonus for the day.

“Flawless,” Padre calls her later. “You always deliver, Nela.”

She’s good at it, she knows.

It’s the rest she struggles with.

This damn city gets to everybody. Nela was born here and never left. It’s eerie how loneliness strikes in one of the brightest, loudest and most populated metro areas on Earth.

Nela knows many people, including those who’d answer if she pinged. That doesn’t mean she wants to reach out to them now.

Sometimes she fantasizes about what life could have been if she was born in a different time and place. Would it be worse? Would it be better? Would she find peace?

Stupid thoughts. Stupid her, really.

_**Hey River, I’m in the Glen right now. Wanna grab a bite or somethin’?** _

He’s likely busy, anyway.

**Yeah, sure. You had a specific place in mind?**

Shit, what did she expect? He’s a recently unemployed man in his early forties. Of course he’s available.

_**Burger Bros ok with you?** _

**** **Prime. Can’t wait to see you :)**

Well, she makes it easy for him; easier than ordering take out, but what the hell. River is the only person she actually feels like chatting with.

This doesn’t make it a good idea of any sort, but perhaps in times like these Nela is allowed to repeat her mistakes.

* * *

“Hey,” she says, getting on her toes to kiss River on the cheek, and he holds onto her just for a second too long. “You look awfully tired for a man who has nothing to do.”

He snorts as they sit at the table. “Well, you know I’m not getting the pension. I gotta figure out the grind. I got busy.”

“Yeah?” She smiles to the waitress who brings them iced water and two menus. “Thank you. What have you been up to?”

“I applied for the PI license and then killed a few hours at the gym. Then you pinged me.”

He has that aura around him, a post workout mix of exhaustion and pumped up energy. He was like that after sex, too.

Nela really tries not to imagine him above her, inside of her, mouth half-open, making all those damn hot noises.

River is definitely the type of man who grunts at the gym, too. Even when he’s checking the menu, he makes that quiet gritty hum as he sighs.

None of it should be that attractive, but it is.

“PI licence?” She frowns, amused at the idea. “How the fuck in the city full of mercs and solo wannabes do they still give out PI licenses?”

“I thought it might give me an edge. I was a detective for a long time.”

“River, don’t take it the wrong way,” she giggles. “But the NCPD is not known for its efficacy in solving crime.”

“Yeah, but as you said. I still have useful contacts on the inside. I guess I’m just following the rules, although I gotta admit, the fees are bullshit. What you’ve been up to today, running around in that outfit?”

The outfit of today certainly isn’t the tight little dress he last saw her in. She’s wearing comfy jeans, sneakers and a simple top. She already took off her hoodie and stuffed it into her backpack.

"Another episode of the Night City politics,” she says. “You don’t wanna know, believe me.”

“Just out of curiosity, do you often work in the field?”

“You sure you’re not getting back to being a badge, huh?” She smiles to him, raising her eyebrows. “Am I in trouble?”

“Come on, Nela,” he sighs, smiling back. “You know the answer to that.”

She is in trouble, just not _that_ kind of trouble.

“I mix it up. I take different jobs, as long as the risk isn’t too high. And whatever you’re thinking, there are kinds of jobs I wouldn’t do.”

River blinks with his ‘ganic eye, studying her face, and all of a sudden Nela feels the need to explain herself

“You asked me once whether I have no principles,” she measures her words. “We slept together. I just felt the need to add that in case you start imagining I’m some criminal mastermind.”

“Hardly,” he says before the waitress comes and they both order their food.

He just wants to get to know her, and Nela isn’t sure how to let him in a bit without making it awkward.

“I don’t mean to keep brushing you off,” she takes a deep breath. “My philosophy is to take gigs that won’t put me on anyone’s radar. There are so many adrenaline seekers out there who love the thrill. The true edgerunners. I don’t give a shit about any of that, I never have. I like the Net for its puzzles, but I have no ambition to be the next Bartmoss.”

“No ego, huh?” River says. “Quite the virtue.”

“I have plenty of vices, don’t worry. What about you? How did you become a badge?”

She walks straight into a wound of sort, the one that might run deeper than the recent job loss.

“Many reasons, really,” he keeps his voice level. “As you know, I lost my parents and was raised within the system. No family, no community, just an older sister. I was getting in trouble at school, skipping classes. I never fit anywhere. They recruited me right outta high school. I wasn’t even twenty when I became the beat cop. There’s no mystery, really. I stuck with it, I figured out I liked the riddles, I liked the investigative work. I don’t know how to explain that I’m not even fucking sure where the twenty years went, but it’s true. I don’t.”

“I understand,” Nela says as the waitress brings out the burgers, fries and onion rings. “Sometimes, life sort of happens. It’s difficult to explain how or why. As I get older, I get it more.”

“How old are you anyway, little girl?”

“Thirty-two. I feel it.”

“Thirty-two,” he repeats. “It would be nice to be thirty-two.”

“Ah. You know how it is,” Nela bites into an onion ring. “Life happens. Yesterday I was perpetually in my early twenties and suddenly that’s no longer the case. People rarely get to live to the old age in this city,” her heart clenches at the thought of V. “My grandma lived to her seventies, but I’ve already outlived my mother.”

“Same here,” River says. “I get that part.”

“Sorry for such a gloomy conversation,” Nela murmurs.

“We won’t escape it. That’s the part of life in this city.”

“You ever wanted to get away?”

“Nah. My sister and her kids live here. I don’t see them often, but that’s still the only family I have. I also worked for the city. I guess I could leave now, but I don’t see myself ever doing that. What about you?”

“There’s a lot I hate about this city, but it’s still home in some way. I understand it. I was raised by the transplants. It’s hard to learn the rules of a new place. I was born here, I’ll probably die here.”

River nods to let her know he’s listening as he takes a huge bite of his burger. Nela appreciates both his appetite and the way his jawline moves when he’s devouring it.

She doesn’t even know when she smiles.

“What?” He questions.

“Nothing. I guess I like watching you eat,” she says, digging into her own burger.

He stares at her for show as she chews and chews.

“There,” he lifts his organic hand at the end to wipe out the sauce from the corner of her mouth.

It’s a flicker of intimacy, but Nela feels something aside from worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like the story, please don't hesitate to leave a comment.
> 
> Poor Nela tries very hard not to be an emotional disaster, but I can't even blame her for being all over the place.


	9. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela and River spend the blackout together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

At the end, Nela accepts River’s invitation to go back to his place. What else is new?

“I should take a shower,” he breathes between the kisses as they enter his apartment. “I pushed myself today at the gym.”

“Do you want company?” she asks, tugging at his shirt.

“Yeah,” he grins. “Sweet idea.”

“I am very sweet, you know?” Nela teases, unbuckling his belt as he removes his shirt.

“I know,” he winks.

They don’t try to be sexy. There’s nothing inherently sensual about a man balancing one one leg to take off his sock, but it’s River, and Nela starves for his touch, and he must starve for her, judging by the lust in his eyes when she slides down her panties.

“I’m glad you’re here,” River adds softly.

Me too, she thinks.

* * *

River is a big, tall man who takes most of the space in the shower, towering over Nela.

“All the water is falling on you,” she complains, digging her finger into his hard stomach in an accusatory manner. “Share a little.”

He pulls her in a gentle embrace, and right away the water gets into her face, blinding her for a moment before River places two fingers underneath her chin and then leans to kiss her, once again shielding her from the shower stream.

It’s so nice, even though her hair will be a mess afterwards and the only product River owns is the 5-in1 body wash for men, not even a half-decent soap or shampoo.

“Let me wash your back,” she nudges him to turn around as she pours the body wash smelling of synthetic pine onto her palm.

She runs her hands on his strong shoulders, feeling the hard muscles he must have worked so hard and long for. She rubs his back, all while planting gentle kisses between his shoulder blades as River murmurs with approval. She squeezes his butt cheek, a pleasant handful, and then gives his ass a little smack, earning herself a short chuckle that escapes his mouth.

“Come on,” “Nela tugs him his arm to face her again.

There’s no way to describe how River looks when his skin is covered with droplets, when his lips are wet, when he’s staring at her like he’s ready to devour her.

Nela decides to be greedy. After all, isn’t that what brought her here?

She caresses his broad chest, brushing against his necklace, and then trails her hands down his stomach and touches his cock. River lets out the needy whimper.

“My turn,” he decides.

He never pushes her, but Nela has already noticed he likes being in control. She turns, letting him work on the knot on her shoulders she didn’t even know was there. He’s good with his hands, and she closes her eyes.

He draws her in for her to lean on his chest, and then he moves to palm her breasts, kneading them gently.

How could she have thought she would resist coming back here?

“Your tits are real preem,” River whispers.

“Yeah?” She smiles, biting her lip.

“Mhm. Best I’ve ever had.”

She is a gonk to get so giddy after such a compliment, but oh, she does, and River keeps fondling her, and then he lowers his ‘ganic hand down her stomach—

All the lights go dark, and Nela jumps up, elbowing River who curses underneath his nose.

“You okay?” She asks as her eye implants adjust to the change.

“I’m fine. Blown fuse?” He guesses, turning off the water. “Sorry to cut our shower short. Can you see?”

“Yeah, I just got startled. Sorry.”

“Let me give you a towel,” he opens the shower door and steps up, pulling the warm towel off the radiator. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Nela laughs, drying herself and then handing the towel back to him. “I mean, it was time. I feel like sex in the shower is asking for injury none of us can afford.”

“Right,” he chuckles, “Still, apologies for interrupting at such a moment. How about you relax in bed and let me check what’s up?”

“Okay,” Nela says, and then he extends his hand in an invitation.

Those small gestures get to her. As much as River seems to enjoy control, he is also sweet and tender. Even though she knows it means nothing, her heart flutters when they walk out of the bathroom, holding hands.

Even cyberware can’t compensate for how dark it is. Eerily dark.

“Shit, look,” River gasps, leading her to the window. “It’s not just us.”

The whole street is dark except for the lights of the cars passing through. Shit. The Night City is dangerous at the best of times, but the blackout is a special kind of hell.

The body count will be high in the morning, and Nela instinctively squeezes River’s hand.

“You’re all right?” He whispers.

Nela doesn’t like darkness. Sure, she faces it at work and otherwise, but she doesn’t like it. She also doesn’t like admitting to such weakness.

“Mhm,” she says, stepping backwards and pulling River towards the bed. “Does your offer to relax in bed still stand?”

“Yes,” River smiles.

* * *

The city might be covered in darkness, but the noises remain, and the walls of the River’s building aren’t thick enough to muffle them. Police cars, the whirring of the aircraft, the shouts on the streets.

Nela likes how loud River gets when she’s riding him. She leans in, pressing her breasts against his chest, lowering her head so his rumbling moans are the only sound that reaches her ears.

His cyber hand is between the intersection of their bodies, his other hand holds her close. It’s easy to lose herself in this, in him, to share his breath, to kiss him in between the slow roll of her hips.

It’s always easy with sex, but it’s not always that good.

* * *

The blackout remains.

There is no way Nela will leave this place until the morning, and she wouldn’t want to. It’s nice to sit naked and drink still cold beer straight from River’s fridge.

“On the night like this I’m grateful to not be a cop,” he says, and something in his tone tells her he itches to work at the mere thought of how much will there be to do after tonight.

“Really?” She pushes him a bit. “I thought you’d miss it.”

“I…,” he stammers, giving her a quick look. “I’m not going back. The frustration has been brewin’ for years.”

“We all sometimes miss things we shouldn’t,” she shrugs. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t feel lost after twenty-three years on the force. That job has been a part of you.”

“I guess,” he agrees, and then he sighs. “It’s not the only part of me, ya know? Never been, I hope.”

The sudden vulnerability in his voice strikes her. Yeah, she can tell. River wouldn’t be wearing his jewelry if he wouldn’t want for others to see. Such things matter.

“I hear you,” Nela says, putting away her beer on the floor to cuddle up to his side.

He wraps his arm around her, taking a deep breath. “To be honest, I think there were moments; whole months, maybe years where the job was all I cared of, but I don’t wanna do that shit again. It’s poison. Maybe I’d have left before if I had anything else going on. I don’t know. It’s weird to start over. I feel old.”

“Come on, River,” she mumbles into his neck, caressing his jawline with her hand. “You’re not old. I’d say you’re in a prime shape.”

“Is that so?” He laughs, catching her lips in a kiss. “Are you praising my sexual prowess?”

“Maybe.”

“Keep it coming,” he insists, kissing her again. “Come on, let me hear it.”

“Fine,” she giggles. “You’re prime in bed. Satisfied?”

“I definitely feel better,” River says, pulling her closer. “Although I’m not turning it into a marketable skill, so it won’t help me start a new job.”

“You know how this city works. There’s always gonna be a need for your skill set. You’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you talked with your former partner?”

“No,” River tenses a little. “Han gave the ‘I told you so’ lecture as I was handing back my badge. Two people reached out to me; but that’s it. They take my actions as betrayal. I take their actions as betrayal. It is what it is.”

No wonder he seems glad to talk to her.

* * *

They talk a lot more than the last time. After all, what is there to do on the night like this?

“My favorite spot is actually on the outskirts of the city.”

“Oh no,” Nela grimaces. “The Badlands? What’s with the all the love for the desert and the open space?”

“Maybe it’s in my blood. My sister lives in the trailer park outside the Rancho Coronado. It’s not far into the Badlands and it’s not the worst of places. I’d rather raise kids there than in the city.”

“Does she have kids?”

“Yeah, Joss has three. She’s a single mom. Randy is almost grown, but other two, Dorian and Monique, are still in the primary school. It’s a decent trailer park, lots of other Native families. You let the kids play outside without worrying that much.”

“See them often?”

“No,” he admits after a short pause. “Not as often as I should have. I have yet to call and tell Joss about the job. I’d rather have a good plan before I do, you know? Anyway, the spot—“

“Ah, yes. The best spot in the whole Night City.”

“There’s a water tower a short walk from the house. The best view of the city, I promise. It’s also the spot that carries many memories.”

“That’s where you seduce all the women, huh?”

“Not usually,” he snorts. “But Joss’ husband shot his leg there. Wasn’t fun to get him down.”

“And that didn’t ruin the family landmark?” Nela chuckles. “Must be quite the view, indeed.”

“See? You get it,” River triumphs. “What about your special spot?”

“You know those old tenement houses in Vista Del Rey? There’s an old Russian woman living alone in one apartment. Her daughter made it to the corpo, married some rich asshole or something. Never visits, but she sends house plants as gifts. Sometimes I go up the fire escape and then sit on the roof and stare at babushka’s balcony. By some miracle, nobody has ruined those plants. The district is in disarray, the shitty buildings all around, but that one balcony is always pretty and green.”

“So it’s better than the Resurrection Park or heading into Wellsprings?”

“Better, because the beauty is unexpected. Yeah, there are prettier areas in many places in the city, but that’s not the point.”

“I think I get it,” River murmurs, placing soft kisses on her temple.

Nela won’t lie. It feels lovely to be like this.

* * *

River’s hand is on her titty as he’s spooning her. Nela’s whole body fits into his, and she knows she’ll fall asleep soon. His own breathing deepens.

“Do you know you snore?” She asks, and River groans in protest.

“What? I thought I talked in my sleep.”

“Yeah, that too,” she laughs.

“Is it that bad?”

“Nah,” she pats his hand. “You block other sounds. Kinda like a white noise machine.”

“Preem,” he says. “Glad to be of service. You make a good body pillow.”

“Mhm,” she whispers, drifting away.

“It’s that sizable ass,” he adds, making Nela hiss, but he only holds her tighter. “So fucking nice.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she says, and then the words prickle more than she thought they would.

“I’ll try,” River promises.

The warning is more for her than for him.

* * *

When Nela wakes up in the morning, River stands by the kitchenette, humming some melody. The smell of coffee fills the air.

“Power’s back?” She asks as her eyes adjust to sunlight.

“Yup,” he confirms, turning to see her. He looks happy. Well-fucked, at least. “How do you take your coffee? I don’t have powdered creamer, but I have sugar.”

“Two spoons,” she covers her yawn. “Damn, I slept long.”

“Feeling rested, despite my snoring?”

“Yeah,” she smiles to him. Honestly, she got more peaceful sleep last night than in a long time.

He is about to hand her coffee when Nela almost jumps up.

V’s calling on the holo.

“Mind if I—?” She whispers to him. “It’s my brother.”

“Be my guest,” he says, placing the cup by the bed. “I’ll jump in the shower.”

Well, he’s discreet, Nela’ll give him that, covering herself with the blanket.

“What’s up?” She asks when Alex’s face appears before her.

He looks terrible.

“Well—Fuck, where the hell are you?”

“Seriously?” She raises her eyebrows. “Sleepover. What’s going on? You look like hell. Have you slept at all?”

“Let’s not do it here. I need your help,” V announces without prying more about Nela’s whereabouts or who is she with. “I’m back in the city today. You can come to my place or I can stop at yours.”

“Meet you at mine? What, 7 pm?”

“Yeah, something like that. Thanks, Nela.”

“No problem,” she says before he disappears.

Shit. He sounded serious. If Alex is serious, the world might be crushing down.

Nela won’t obsess until tonight. She reaches for her coffee, and the pleasant roasted taste hits her palate.

God, she could use a lazy day, or at least a day without worry, but the weight on her heart won’t disappear until V fixes his fucking brain.

“Everything okay?” River asks, walking out of the bathroom with a towel on his hips.

“Yep,” she sighs, giving him a small smile. “My brother is a gonk. Nothing new. Forget it. You look nice, you know?”

“Yeah?” His voice gets that velvety tone, already familiar. “Are you rushing today?”

There’s really no justification except that Nela is already here, and she wants to fuck him again. She never claimed to be strong-willed.

“No,” she says, pulling out the covers to present herself and invite him in. “Do you want me to run to the shower first?”

“Stop it,” River laughs, tossing the towel aside and rushing towards her. “I’d make a mess of you, anyway.”

It’s a good start of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the trap of developing intimacy...
> 
> And yes, it was the blackout V and Panam caused :>
> 
> Thank you so much for all the new kudos and the comments, they mean so much to me :)


	10. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V needs Nela's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for all the comments. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Last week kicked my butt so I hope you're all staying healthy and happy.

Why is the reality inevitably worse than Nela could have suspected?

V paces around the sofa, and she watches him as her brain struggles to process the information.

“What the fuck?” She gasps. “You caused the blackout? It’s eighty million eddies in damages and counting! What is wrong with you?! Are you gonna destroy this whole fucking city by the time you’re done?! You fucked with Arasaka so now you go after Kang Tao?? What are you going to do tomorrow, wage the war against Militech? Am I ever gonna get a bloody warning or someone is gonna shoot my head one day for the shit you’ve done?!”

“Calm the fuck down, Nela,” Alex sighs, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture. “No one knows. The power plant circ’ed, the aircraft fell, the nomads got to it. The unsurprising story in the Badlands”

“Did you involve the nomads?” Nela questions. “Who’s the girl I heard when you called? How much does she know? Do I have to worry about that?”

“Damn it,” V grunts. “She’s doesn’t know, all right? It’s my biz whom I tell, anyway.”

“It’s your biz until you die and somebody comes at me,” Nela says before she bites her tongue, but maybe tonight there is no way to avoid the talk.

“If you don’t wanna get involved—”

“I am involved, you gonk. Stop it, Alex, I’m begging you. I wanna help. I will. Just tell me things. I’m your sister! Don’t you fucking trust me?!”

“Yeah,” he admits, giving her the look. “You’re a pain in the ass, but I trust you. That’s never been the point. I tusted Jackie. He trusted he. He’s dead, Nela. I already fucked up. I can’t escape Johnny’s bitchin’ and naggin’ so can I escape yours? I’m trying to share some shit.”

“Fine,” Nela rasps, holding her anger at bay. “Fine. I’m listening.”

V talks about his meeting with Takemura, about the information Rogue shared, about fighting the Wraiths, about snatching the Kang Tao AV to get to Anders Hellman, the man who had designed the Relic for Arasaka.

“Hellman said it’s too late,” V drops the bomb, and for a second, the world goes dark once again. “That the Relic has already taken over my brain.”

The silence looms between them, even though the death sentence is not exactly news.

“Do you think Hellman was telling the truth?” Nela asks, and her voice is calmer than her heart.

“I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m not givin’ up yet. Johnny—”

The name triggers something.

“Yeah?” Nela nudges. “What does Johnny say?”

“He wants to destroy Arasaka.”

“Of course. He’s a goddamn terrorist, Alex!”

“He’s right though, isn’t he? They already control everything, the land, the skies, even our bodies carry their equipment, and now they’re gonna take our fucking souls, too?”

“For Christ’s sake, what, now you’re onto some holy war? Call Padre, go to the damn confession, I don’t give a fuck, but please think because you bombing corporate buildings, huh?”

“What, Nela, you don’t think we should fight back? You hate the corpos, so tell me, aren’t the people supposed to push back? Don’t you have some principles?”

Those words again, burning like a knife. Nela knows too well that once she pulls that knife away, she’ll bleed.

“You’re a fucking gonk, V,” she declares, shaking her head. “You have no fucking idea, both you and Johnny. You wanna be a hero? Be a fucking hero, but don’t allow yourself to think you do this for ‘ _the people’_! Don’t use the rest of us to legitimize your actions! Yeah, I’m sure Johnny Silverhand is a top-notch thinker. He enjoys thinking so fucking much that no thought other than that his own reaches his mind. People push back every single day in this city, it’s just not rockstar enough for you to notice. You think principles are all loud words and loud actions and you don’t even ask who’s gonna live with the aftermath, and who’s gonna die. You think people are cowards who don’t care for their own lives. That somehow only you have those grand dreams and ideas. Silverhand is selfish. He’s not the man of the people. Stop this nonsense! What know?! You’re gonna burn this city to the ground?!”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, sitting next to her. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you need my help with?”

“I need to find Evelyn Parker. She was the client who hired Dex for the heist. I don’t know much about her, but I’ve left her plenty of messages in the last weeks.”

“Do you think Arasaka zeroed her?”

“Doubt it. She was friends with Judy Alvarez. You know Judy, right?”

“Yeah,” Nela nods. “The smut editor at Lizzy’s. Sure, I know her. Oh God. Was she involved in the heist, too?”

“She edited the braindance of Yorinobu’s penthouse. Even if Judy doesn’t know where Evelyn is, she must know who she is. I’m heading to Lizzy’s tomorrow, but I might need help with finding Evelyn. I wish I had more deets to share.”

“Well, I’m always here,” Nela says, staring at her nails. “You think finding Evelyn will give you the answers?”

“She must have known or suspected what the Relic is. I mean— _what the fuck_ , right? Someone must have hired her.”

“I don’t like the idea of another party involved in looking for the Relic.”

“It was a secret project at Arasaka. Those who knew must think it got destroyed,” Alex shrugs. “I’ve been careful, but no troubles so far.”

“You’ve just started to poke around. V, you gotta be careful. I mean it. All of this is way above your head.”

“Yeah, I know,” he closes his eyes. “Can I crush here tonight? I barely slept.”

“Sure. Wanna order pizza?”

“Prime. Double pepperoni?”

“You got it.”

Fuck.

The world hasn’t ended yet, but it might soon.

* * *

V’s already asleep on the sofa when Nela gets into her bed. This used to be _babcia_ Aniela’s bedroom. There’s still that gaudy fluorescent figurine of Jesus sitting on the nightstand.

Nela has never been the one to pray, but she kept it for _babcia_ ’s sake. Tonight, it brings less peace than usual.

How to bargain with God to whom she doesn’t talk when the emptiness threatens to swallow her whole? V is dying. Every second is bringing him closer to death, and even though his body will survive, at some moment he’ll disappear, taken over by the egomaniac rockstar parasite.

Another fear lingers deep inside, the one Nela is more at odds with. Will she survive this ordeal? V’s discreet, no doubt, but they are still siblings. Everyone knows it. Whatever shit he chooses to do will get back at her.

Perhaps it’s the concept of her own death Nela needs to acquaint herself with?

Her body tenses in rebellion.

If Alex dies, how will she pick herself up? He’s not supposed to die. She’s not supposed to outlive everyone she’s ever loved.

But is it wrong to cling to her own life? Is that cowardice or some atavistic brain response? After all, Nela takes risks each day. There have been close calls.

People rarely get a chance to grow old in the Night City. Corpos, maybe. But the regular folks here in Heywood? Nah.

If there are flight, and fight, and freeze responses, is there one that makes Nela desperate to be held, and feel the touch on her body, to be close with another person

**_Hey_ **

**Hey, Nela. Everything okay, I hope?**

No, she wants to write.

**_Yeah, I’m fine. Do you wanna catch up again sometime this week?_ **

**Sure ;) I’d love to**

**_Preem :) How was your day?_ **

**Good. Sent some e-mails, went to the range a bit. I’m taking a moment to myself, but still gettin’ ready. I have lots of time, so let me know whenever you want to meet up. I have a few ideas that you might like ;)**

**_I’m eager to hear your ideas, especially after today ;)_ **

**Yeah? You enjoyed our morning?**

**_Couldn’t you tell?_ **

**I could. I also like to hear it.**

**_I’ll tell you once we see each other. Sweet dreams, River ;)_ **

**Sweet dreams….**

It won’t heal her soul or make up for all the shit-show around, but being with River is like slipping into a private safe space where the big bad reality dissipates for a few glorious hours.

So what if this is all Nela has right now? So what if the only thing between them is sex? Doesn’t this world revolve around substitutes?

Who knows how much time any of them have left?

* * *

V tells Nela to wait. He says that he met Judy, but he doesn’t need assistance yet.

Wait, he repeats. _Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait._

Every part of Nela’s body is ready.

The worst is that she doesn’t even know what she’s ready for.

No matter how much Nela loves her brother, V brings chaos.

* * *

Even her apartment, the place that’s always meant something to her, no longer can keep Nela at peace. It doesn’t matter how much she has redecorated over the years, there are reminders of all the losses.

None of it is unique in the Night City.

V might have the construct of Johnny Silverhand eating at his brain, but losing family isn’t unique.

It’s difficult to create a place to belong when there’s pain around.

Is it better that _babcia_ Aniela is no longer here? Little could have shaken her. She rarely showed tears, even after the death of her partner.

Still, V had always been her weakness. The only times Nela would see her cry were because of him.

What would _babcia_ Aniela say to him today? What would she say to Nela?

_Why weren’t you watching him?_

Nela heard that sentence several times in her life, and each time it drilled through her heart.

Alex got lost at the playground at seven years old. The sheer panic that some creep might have gotten to him.

_Why weren’t you watching him?_

Alex got into a first serious fight and cracked his rib.

_Why weren’t you watching him?_

Alex got together with the gonkiest of the Valentinos and landed in a juvie.

_Why weren’t you watching him?_

Those were words said in anger, through tears, and Nela recognizes that. She would defend herself each time. She’d yell and scream about how unfair it was.

How she couldn’t be her brother’s keeper.

* * *

There are ways to numb the pain. There are ways to sweeten it. Alcohol, drugs, sex in any form.

At least the first two aren’t the problem.

Perhaps seeking one person isn’t the worst way to cope.

Even when Nela arrives at River’s place with two bags of frozen pierogi.

There must be something pathetic at her desperation and eagerness to please; but even if River sees it, he doesn’t make any remarks. He likes to talk, but he doesn’t push questions, not in a way that would annoy her.

Perhaps a lifetime isn’t enough to learn a person, but it doesn’t take long to know the basics. It’s their third night together, and Nela already recognizes the patterns.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pierogi,” River says as she’s frying them.

“That might be the saddest sentence I’ve ever heard,” Nela can’t help her smirk. “That’s my comfort food.”

“You seem tense tonight,” he puts his big hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… life,” she breathes out. “Besides, I’m hoping you can help me relax”

“Ready to serve, ma’am.”

“You have terrible pick up lines, you know?” She cringes.

“I know,” he admits, leaning against the counter. “And yet you’re here.”

“Touché,” she relents.

Despite everything, she’s here.

* * *

All the tension goes away, leaving only the pleasant soreness behind.

River purrs with satisfaction when she wiggles herself closer to kiss his cheek. His hand moves on her waist, pulling her in until her body melts into his.

“I brought my own shirt to wear,” she mumbles. “‘ _Fuck the police’_.”

He laughs louder than she anticipated. “That’s cute you’re using it.”

“How many times have you been asked to perform some cop fantasy in bed?”

“Quite a few,” River admits, still laughing. “Why? Do you have any uniform desires?”

“No,” Nela giggles. “Christ, no. You?”

“Nah. I’ve dated my fair share of cops, though.”

Nela isn’t sure whether she wants to know the answer or what happens if the answer is not what she wants to hear, hut she asks anyway.

“We never talked about it, but are you fucking someone else besides me?

“What? No, I don’t do that. There’s only you.”

Nela could pretend it’s a health concern or whatever, but she won’t lie to herself. The truth is obvious.

“What about you?” River follows up.

“Just you,” she admits. “I prefer it like this for as long as we continue, so give me a heads up if you wanna get together with someone else.”

There it is. The full confession that Nela wants this situationship to continue. What is the point of pretending otherwise?

“Same here,” River murmurs, shifting himself above her to look into her eyes. “I got you your own toothbrush. I hoped you’d spend the night again.”

Nela smiles despite herself. “I brought my own toothbrush, actually. And a change of clothing. This time I planned on staying. Full premeditation.”

“Stay as long as you like,” River whispers, lowering himself to kiss her.

It’s a train wreck, really. A full speed train wreck, going straight through her heart, and none of the warnings matter.


	11. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela and River spend a few days together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW and TW: mentions of sex, mentions of domestic violence/dating and trauma

River sleeps on his back, limbs spread and snoring.

Is it creepy for Nela to lie here in the dusk and study his face? The lines of his strong jaw with a shadow of a stubble, his soft lips, the scarring around his implant, the twitching eyelashes of his ‘ganic eye, the earring he never takes off.

The snoring stops, even though he doesn’t move.

“You’re staring,” River rasps, his voice still caught in half-slumber.

“ _Mhm_. You’re pretty to look at,” she says and his lips curl into a smile before he reaches for her.

“Yeah?” He asks as if fishing for more.

“I know you know that,” she teases him, dragging her fingers across his chest and stomach. “Come on, are you telling me you’ve been pumpin’ iron to be more efficient at being a cop?”

The muscles tense underneath her touch as he laughs.

“I was an awkward kid growing up,” he scoffs, playing with her hair. “Tall and skinny. I think I started pumpin’ iron to fit in with all the guys. Besides, badges don’t get paid well. Can’t rely on the fancy cyberware.”

“Accidents at work?” She asks, caressing his cheekbone near the area where the eye scarring ends.

“Yeah,” he confirms and then lifts his cyber hand. “That too. Two separate occasions. I lost the eye as the rookie. The random cyberpsycho attack. Three patrol cars tried to contain the thread before the Max-Tec arrived. It cost me my eye, but some poor bastards got killed. I had considered joining the Max-Tec beforehand, but the whole thing changed my mind.”

“I’m glad,” Nela murmurs.

Ordinary badges are terrible, but the Max-Tec guys deserve their own circle in hell, as dangerous as cyberpsychosis can be. Not only there’s zero impunity for their actions, but their skills are terrifying.

Nela could deal with a few beat cops. She would struggle against the Max-Tec unit.

“Do you have cyberware? Aside from the cyberdeck? I bet yours is quite impressive.”

“That shit ain’t cheap,” Nela agrees, and then she pauses. “I have some muscle and bone lace across my ribcage.”

“Really? I would have never guessed, and I’ve seen your body from every angle.”

Nela takes his hand to trace over her side, covered with botanical ink. “You won’t feel it, but there’s tiny scarring here. The ripper did a fine job, and believe me, I paid more than a fair share of eddies.”

“I’m guessing it was a necessity?” River runs circles with his thumb over her ribs, and Nela shuts her eyes.

She doesn’t need to tell him anything, and he’d understand if she cut off the conversation. For all River shortcomings, he’s not the type to carelessly step into the past hurts.

Still, why wouldn’t she tell the truth? It wasn’t her fault.

“A guy did a number on me,” she sighs, and River freezes for a moment once the obvious meaning settles in his brain. “I was really young. I had a few disaster relationships, but this one almost cost me everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he simply says, resuming his caresses.

His ‘ganic hand is large and rough, but the touch is sweet and tender.

Still, for a second Nela wonders what fucked up shit he might have done to the woman he’s been with. Is it an unfair accusation when uttered in a moment, and only in the privacy of her mind?

She trusts him enough to fuck, to sleep by his side, to do all this; but how much do they know about each other? Not much, and River was a pig for over twenty years. Cops are not known for championing for women’s rights.

Her heart rate quickens, and Nela isn’t sure whether it’s due to the memories or because this topic is precarious.

“You live and learn,” she mutters. “I’m sure you’ve seen more than a fair share of abuse at your job.”

And how much outside of it?

“Yeah,” he whispers, and she is yet to open her eyes. “I saw all kinds of fucked up shit and no justice. Most of the cases wouldn’t go anywhere.”

“Please,” she begs, finally glancing at him. “If you wanna say something about how no-one would cooperate with the police, I don’t wanna hear it. I mean it.”

“No, I—” he swallows. “I get that part, actually. Joss’s husband was… not the best, to put it mildly. He was running with the nomad gang, doing all sorts of shit, drinking. He once took his toddler son to a bar until I tracked him down and took Dorian home. I know he was rough with Joss, although she’d never tell me and she wouldn’t let me intervene. It made me so mad at times, but I get it. Sort of. I’m not the lead head you think I am. I also know that cops do the same shit within their own families.”

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Nela says, tapping River’s chest. “That sounds rough and I get how it feels to want to protect your sibling. And If I thought you were that bad I wouldn’t be here.”

That part is true. I mean, maybe their first time was mostly about lust, but the rest is also about how River has acted so far.

Which is why she worries more about catching feelings and less for River to turn psycho.

Not to mention that unlike her twenty-year-old self, Nela can now defend herself without lifting a finger. It’s never bad to have options.

“Good,” River smiles. “Are you in a rush today? I need to go to the store to get food, but I could make you breakfast.”

“I’m in no rush,” she takes a deep breath. “Just waitin’ for my gonk of a brother to call crying for help, so I’m stayin’ put. I could be here until you kick me out,” she adds.

“Come on,” his smile only widens. “You know I won’t do that.”

Nela can’t ignore the warmth spreading around her chest.

* * *

She stays over.

It’s the only place that lets her escape, and yes, it is an escape.

River’s unemployed, slowly gathering information and tools for his PI grind, and Nela has no imminent gigs.

They can just be together, lost in the pleasant idleness, as if removed from the fast pace of the city.

It’s an illusion and Nela knows it, but it’s lovely.

* * *

**Still workin’ on it.**

Those are the only words V sends in a message, and Nela can’t help the growl escaping her lips.

“Everything okay?” River asks.

Of course he asks, she’s still at his place. It’s been over twenty-four hours in 300ft2 together.

“My brother is the bane of my existence,” she says, and then the ice-cold shiver runs through her spine.

Yes, he is, but the possibility of losing him cuts to the bone.

“You seem very close,” River notices.

“Yeah,” Nela confirms, even though the truth is far more complex. “I was taking care of him a lot as a child. My mother died when V was just a toddler and I was seven. We lived with my grandma.”

“Your father was not in the picture?”

“Nah. He bailed before V was even born, and even before that he had been flaky. My grandma, his mother, already had housed us all and he would just pop in sometimes. I don’t remember a lot of him. He’s probably in the ditch somewhere. My grandma was a great woman, though. She really tried for us, you know? I always felt welcome, and I’d come back home multiple times as an adult.”

“That matters. Joss was that person for me. She’s an older sister, too. Once I became a badge, I vowed to help and repay some of the debt. We don’t talk much now, but I hope it will change.”

“Siblings are complicated. No judgement.”

“We fought a lot about her husband, and in hindsight I wish I would listen to her more. I would also get busy with work. You might think I was this idealistic self-righteous cop, but in my family my badge was a point of contention. It’s not like you go to the trailer park where my sister lives and everyone loves the police. Might not be Heywood, but still, you know how it is. Especially with Joss’ history. Randy, my eldest nephew, got in trouble with the law and we also disagreed about that. I thought Joss was too lenient, she thought I was being harsh. Besides, you know, that’s _her_ kid.”

“You know where I stand on the issue, but I get the fear when you want to protect someone. I’ve always worried about V. He’s skilled but also quick-tempered. A cocky bastard. Kinda like our old man from the stories I’ve heard. There are plenty of stupid things V had done as a teen. I felt bad because I wanted to leave and live my own life when I was young. I’d meet a guy and then move in with him after two weeks because we were _sooo_ in love. I just really wanted to have something of my own.”

“That I understand,” River nods. “I wanted to belong somewhere. Well, here I am, all those years later, at the new beginning.”

“It gets old, doesn’t it?” Nela plops on the bed behind him to wrap her arms across his chest and place her chin into his shoulder. “The endless beginnings.”

“Mhm. At least we’re still here.”

“That’s very true,” Nela whispers, thinking how fragile life is.

* * *

There’s nothing particularly extraordinary that River does in bed, but what he does, he does well and with much enthusiasm.

In a world where every kind of kinky BD scroll is available at the snap of fingers, it’s not a given to find a man who enjoys a good old-fashioned fucking.

Sure, he likes to smack her ass or pin her wrist from time to time and they experiment a little, but he seems equally pleased with slow and lazy sex. 

Nela has never liked fussy men. Fussy people in general. They grate at her nerves.

River, even after hours of his company, doesn’t annoy her. Does it sound harsh? It’s a compliment, though maybe not the kind she’d say out loud.

“You always seem to think much more than you’re sharing,” he complains, trailing kisses on her neck. “I’m surprised your mind doesn’t make the constant buzzing noise. Are you bored of me already?”

“Of you, River?” She whispers, smiling at his neediness. “Impossible.”

* * *

Perhaps the true sign of trouble is when they finally leave the apartment to buy more condoms.

Being holed up at River’s is one thing, but to walk the streets of the Glen holding hands is quite another.

Part of Nela wishes it wouldn’t end, but that’s not how real life works.

Christ, he’s a former pig, currently unemployed, and Nela doesn’t even know how she’d categorize her life right now. None of it makes sense, but it feels right nonetheless.

There’s something wholesome to stroll the streets like that, full of giggles, like a couple of teenagers.

They fuck like a couple of teenagers, too.

It permits Nela to forget about the grittiness all around. It brings out butterflies in her stomach.

Nela has always been prone to sentiment, and River… who the fuck knows? Dude is even more lost than her.

They are not in any place to make any rational choices, so to fall in love would be a catastrophe.

* * *

River places the kitchen towel across his shoulder as he moves around the stove, reheating two frozen pizzas and fussing with his own toppings, acting like he’s creating a culinary masterpiece.

Nela watches him, sitting on the counter.

“Taste it,” he puts the sauteed synth mushroom into her mouth and she chews on it. “Quite good, huh?”

“Yeah,” she agrees easily, though part of her always wants to tease him. Why not? “It will be the best pizza in town, I bet.”

River catches up right away, laughing out loud. “Are you mocking me as I’m making you dinner?”

“You’re right,” she relents. “I shouldn’t be so ungrateful. I would never accept such a rude houseguest.”

“Well, you’re also the prettiest houseguest, so there’s that,” he winks with his ‘ganic eye.

It doesn’t surprise her that he enjoys their unspecified arrangement when it’s all easy and chill.

“Come here,” she grabs his cyber hand and pulls him to stand between her legs.

There’s always this pause before they kiss. He must do it on purpose as she closes her eyes; their lips brushing against each other.

“I can’t get enough of you, you know?” He whispers, and finally catches her lips.

He’s a good kisser. More tender than possessive, with just enough tongue.

She could get used to this. She’s already used to this.

Nela traps River between her thighs and wraps her arms around his back. She’s greedy, insatiable even, perhaps because this is temporary, so she fills her cup as much as she can.

Perhaps because she actually likes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for leaving comments - it really helps me to keep up with my writing. We're soon approaching more angsty part of the story, and don't worry, River quests will happen as well.
> 
> All in its time :)


	12. Split

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> CW: sex
> 
> TW: mentions of sexual violence/torture

Is it what River does, is it what he says, or is it that after four days of playing house and fucking each morning and each evening, Nela’s might be a bit in love?

Her body is dampened with sweat after all the edging River has put her through. It was the sweetest torture, and now the release is so close when he’s above her, thrusting into her, hitting all the right spots.

“Baby,” he whispers the pet name he uses for her in bed. “Baby, you’re so beautiful. Getting there?”

“Mhm,” Nela breathes, closing her eyes, overtaken by desire. “Shit, yeah. River…”

“Look at me, baby,” he orders in a soft voice, snaking his cyber hand to flicker her clit. Oh God, she’s so close. “I want you to look at me as you come.”

There’s tenderness in his ‘ganic eye, and Nela lifts up her hand to caress his cheek.

It’s more than sex when it crosses through the layers of intimacy. There’s pleasure, but there’s vulnerability, too, and Nela wants so much. All of it. All of him.

She bites her lip, stifling the moans escaping her.

“Mhm, yeah,” River groans, staring into her face, leaving no place to hide.

Orgasm shatters through her in waves of heat and sweetness. Nela wails, blinking, trying so hard to keep her eyes open as she falls into bliss.

River kisses her greedily, still moving between her thighs.

She wraps her legs tighter around him, she runs her fingers onto the nape of his neck. His skin burns to touch.

It doesn’t matter how many men Nela has fucked before, and there were quite the few, but she can’t restrain feelings for long. Some people can, but not her. A terrible affliction, and one she was aware of before landing in this situationship.

“Nela,” River rasps into her ear, snapping his hips last few times before he comes, too.

The sound he makes might be the death of her.

 _Christ_.

There is always the moment right after when River gets up to deal with the condom, and to bring her cloth and a glass of water. Nela is grateful for a minute of solitude to get a hold of herself before they snuggle and kiss again.

What did she expect? She knew it would happen, that she’d catch feelings despite all the reasons not to.

What is she even doing here? Four fucking days of invading his space. River hasn’t asked her to leave, and she hasn’t suggested it.

This is more than sex. That’s why it must end. Nela can handle one heartbreak at the time, and V needs her more than ever.

* * *

“You’re all right?” River asks, pulling her into a tight hug, as if she belonged here. In this apartment and in his bed. As if they settled in a routine. As if this was a night of many more to come.

“Yeah,” Nela lies, although she’s not even sure if it’s truly a lie. When she’s in his arms, inhaling his scent and enjoying the heat of his body, the world is at peace.

One last night, she tells herself. One last night before they talk.

“You fit perfectly into this spot on my chest,” he murmurs as Nela lifts her head to see the smile on his face.

He likes her, but he also must like being single. She wonders whether River has ever lived with a woman, whether he’s ever been in a serious relationship. How many people has he loved, how many times has he had his heart broken?

She won’t ask. It would be rude. Even though they never set out the rules of engagement, there remains the unspoken understanding of not digging too much into another person’s life.

They talk about childhoods, they talk about home, and the city, but there are questions River doesn’t ask, and neither does Nela, no matter how curious she gets.

“You have a terrific chest to rest on,” she whispers, caressing his strong arm.

“Yeah? I think that’s my favorite compliment.”

“I didn’t realize I compliment you enough for you to have your pick,” she chuckles.

The words of affection always slip when the feelings arrive. In truth, the wave of emotions soars through her heart. All Nela wants to do is to give, and love, and care, and murmur sweet words, and plan for the future.

She should have learned by now that being able to think clearly and act clearly are two separate matters. Sure, she knows her weakness, but what good is awareness if she still sought River multiple times?

“You’re my favorite,” he kisses her forehead.

What does she count on? He’s just as lonely as her, if not more. A lifelong badge all of a sudden cut away from everything he knows. No wonder he welcomed her with open arms. No wonder he’s not kicking her out after sex.

It doesn’t mean he has feelings, and it certainly doesn’t mean that there’s any future for them. Who knows if there’s any future for Nela at all?

Why can’t she let go and stop thinking about it?

“You’re my favorite, too,” she whispers, because what the hell at this point?

Pretending otherwise won’t soften the pain.

She has dealt with similar pain many times in her life. At least the memories of her days with River will stay sweet and wholesome.

He falls asleep first. His breathing deepens, his hand across her back becomes heavier, and the low steady hum of his snoring fills the space.

It’s bizarre to feel so strongly about this man when they don’t even know each other that well. It is easy to see someone’s good side after several days together, but it’s more than likely that he has more issues than he lets on. Nela certainly does.

Still, in some sense she’s learned a lot. Those might be tidbits of information, but they paint a picture of a man who might have been wrong many times, but who admits it. He’s always strived for goodness. Nela finds it an admirable quality.

He seems to have a big heart. That is rare and precious.

For a moment, Nela entertains the fantasy of a relationship. The closeness like this every single day, the possibility of growing together. Having someone to lean on, someone to love.

Don’t most people dream of it?

It seems so hard to find, especially in this city.

* * *

V calls at the ungodly hour.

“What the fuck?” Nela barks at the holo, covering herself with a blanket.

“Where the fuck are you?” Alex questions. “I came straight to your place!”

“You should have called,” she sighs, glancing at River, who raises his eyebrows at her. “Hey, let me call you back in a moment.”

“Fuck, okay! Just let me in, all right?”

“Fine,” she agrees.

Thank God for the remote access to allow Alex inside.

“It’s still the middle of the night,” River notices when she kisses him on the cheek as an apology.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call him from the bathroom. Go to sleep, all right?”

“I don’t want you to sneak out like a thief in the night,” he says, messing her hair. “Wake me up if you’re gonna leave, okay?”

“Sure, River,” Nela agrees as the anxiety forms in her stomach.

V’s temper’s flaring, and he looks like shit. That means that tomorrow he needs help. It will be dangerous and different from how Nela works alone. They will argue even if she tries to keep it together.

The best she can hope for is that he actually has a decent plan for once, and that he listens.

Not to mention that before she heads out, Nela needs to end whatever they have with River before it’s too late and she falls in love.

It’s what’s best. It’s the only choice.

* * *

“Where the hell are you?” V seems only a little calmer, sipping on the beer from her own fridge.

“Christ, Alex, I can’t wait day and night for you,” Nela leans on the sink in the tiny bathroom.

“Your home security shows you spent the last few days away. I wouldn’t ask, but I need to trust you.”

Wonderful, now suddenly V gives himself the right to be concerned about her behavior, all as he goes around the city, leaving bodies behind and causing damages worth multi-million eurodollars.

Oh, fuck it.

“Remember detective Ward?” She sighs in defeat, crossing her arms.

“Jesus, Nela, are you fucking a cop now?!”

“Stop it right now,” she cuts him off, though the shame rises to her cheeks. “It’s not your fucking biz, and it’s not important, and you don’t wanna make me angry. Better tell me what’s going on.”

V plops on the sofa, rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t wanna share to many deets here, but Evelyn was a doll. She disappeared from her place of work and it took some time to find her. Suffice to say, she’s not doing well. She got disposed off to make XBDs.”

The sudden clutch of pain leaves Nela breathless. None of it is surprising, although what could have prompted the sale of a doll to make rape and torture porn? Dolls are an expensive investment. They don’t end up tossed in the garbage nearly as often as other sex workers.

Like their mother.

Nela briefly wonders if Alex ever thinks of it. He must, but they rarely talk about her, and never about the way she died.

“She alive?” Nela swallows the bitter saliva.

“Don’t know. Judy thinks so. You know, they’d like to make their money’s worth. Killing a girl with a doll chip quickly? Not profitable. We have a location in Charter Hill. Old power plant. We’ll hit it tomorrow night. You’ll help, right? I bet we could use a netrunner.”

“Sure, I’ll help,” Nela nods. “I’d help, even if you weren’t involved. Would be a sin not to.”

“It’s weird to see you riled up like that.”

“We all have causes we care about,” she lets out a deep breath. “Killing those fuckers won’t weigh on my conscience.”

“Well, I guess that’s good. We can discuss the plan later. You okay with me giving Judy your address? I know you know each other, I just donna wanna have you jumping at my throat for not asking. She lives in Watson. Your apartment is the closest to Charter Hill.”

“I’m cool with Judy. I’ll be there at noon at the latest.”

“Noon, huh? The detective must be doing something right.”

“Fuck off. It’s nothing serious. I already regret telling you. It’s done deal, V. Drop it.”

“Fine, fine. I just—I’m kinda scared sometimes. About everything. About who knows and what might happen.”

It hits straight into the heart. No matter what, that’s her baby brother. Her own blood.

“Hey, there,” Nela whispers. “I’ll do whatever I can for you. You know that. Take my bed for tonight. Get a good rest. I’ll pick some groceries.”

“‘Aight. Love you, sis,” V says, and yes, it is unusual to hear him express affection like that, and for that reason alone, Nela remains fearful.

“Love you, too,” she says before he hangs up.

Shit. Why is everything so fucking messy?

By the time Nela returns to bed, River is asleep and snoring as usual. She snuggles up to him.

“You stayin’?” He mumbles.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” Nela says, and the pit in her stomach grows.

“Mhm,” River wraps his arms around her. “Okay.”

It might be her little personal heaven to rest her head on his chest, trying to hear the steady beat of the heartbreak trough the low noise of his snoring.

Everything with River has been easy. Why wouldn’t it be? He doesn’t have a job and the stresses that come with it, and Nela avoided thinking of her life on purpose. Great sex and pleasant conversation are not as hard to come by in such circumstances.

He’s probably terrible. Maybe he drinks too much or gets snappy when tired. Perhaps his eye wanders and perhaps he doesn’t enjoy anyone for long, that’s why he’s still single in his forties. Perhaps he gets jealous and possessive and mean. Perhaps even worse.

Perhaps he’s as good as he seems to be. A bit boastful, maybe. Proud, sure. With a lot of baggage, but what if he really is as tender and sweet and he seems? He respects Nela’s boundaries; he cares how she’s doing and he’s giving. There are tons of small gestures he does without asking.

Well, however good or bad he really is, River’s not looking for more, and neither is Nela.

She can’t continue this.

Not just because of V, but out of self-preservation.

* * *

She packs her things as River makes pancakes.

They eat breakfast in bed as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Nela wishes to kiss him, and have him one more time, but any greediness now seems unfair.

She’s already avoiding the conversation, but there’s no way around it. It will hurt.

“Listen, River,” she starts after he tosses the plates into a sink. “Can we talk for a second?”

It’s a suspicious start, more of a warning, and River’s not stupid. He glances at her, stilling himself, and then he walks up to sit at the edge of the bed.

“What’s up?” He asks.

Rip the bandaid. It will hurt only for a second.

“I’ve had a great time with you,” she begins. “You seem great, but to be honest, I’m not made for casual flings. You made it very clear you’re not looking for anything more, and I’m already feeling something. I’m terrible at this. I basically have a heart in my cunt. It has never ended well for me.”

“Okay,” River says, smiling. “I really like you, Nela. I’d love to make it a real thing.”

Shit, what?

That has always been a possibility, Nela supposes, but she truly hasn’t expected those words right now.

“Well, I…,” she tries to gather her thoughts. “You made it clear you’re not looking for anything more.”

“I didn’t think it was an option with you,” he shrugs.

Fuck, He’s for real. Damn, it really doesn’t change much, does it? It’s even worse now, because the temptation to fall into his arms is so fucking strong, but that’s stupid. All of it is stupid. She’s just lonely, he’s just lonely, and it’s a bad idea.

V. Think of V. He’s dying, and Nela just can’t invest into another attempt at her pathetic love life.

“River, don’t get me wrong…”

“Shit,” he curses quietly, more in defeat than any anger. “Damn, Nela, I can take a rejection. You don’t need to lead me on with excuses.”

“No, River,” she protests as the sadness grips her throat. “I know how it sounds. I really like you. More than I should. I assumed you weren’t interested, but the timing couldn’t be worse.”

“Come on, you think I don’t see the tension all over you? I’ve been a badge for two decades, I learned to pick up a thing or two.”

“It’s my brother,” Nela says. “You know I can’t and won’t say more. It’s not my story to tell, but I truly can’t be in a relationship right now. It wouldn’t be fair to anybody, and trust me, I’ve had more than a fair share of disaster relationships. My life is messy, and yours—“

“I get it,” he cuts her off softly. “I’m a grown man. Damn. No luck for me. Anyway, uhm—”

It’s odd to see him so sad, and Nela knows that once she gets up and leave, she’ll cry. She’ll find a place to cry and then dry her tears before meeting Alex.

“Anyway,” River continues. “I’m not trying to change your mind, I just really enjoy your company. How d’ya feel about staying in touch if we don’t have sex? Not to sound pathetic, but I honestly don’t have anyone to talk with.”

Dammit, a loophole she craves. Maybe River is better at following self-imposed rules than she is.

“I mean—okay?” She agrees. “I’d be fine to stay friends and catch up sometimes.”

“Good. Sure. Great,” he says.

She gets up, he gets up. It’s an awkward goodbye when they’re unsure how to act when the intimacy abruptly ends.

Still, River pulls her in one of his bear hugs, and it takes a lot of resolution not to burst in tears.

Thirties and all, grown fucking woman, but Nela’s heart is still so ridiculous.

“Take care, Nela,” he whispers as she clings to him the last time. “Stay safe, okay? Ping me if you need anything.”

“Mhm,” she can barely let the words out. “You, too. Good luck with the job and everything.”

Then the door closes. That’s it.

Like on autopilot, Nela descends the stairs, trying to shake off the sweetness of the last days, and the pain of the mini heartbreak.

There’s much ahead today. A chance to rescue a woman, and a bit of street justice that Nela actually believes in.

Peace is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> Don't worry though, it isn't over. Sorry for the longer wait than usual, but it's been a nightmare lately IRL. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though Nela is a mess. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I truly appreciate the comments. They make my day, especially when it's harder to write.


	13. Disasterpiece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V, Nela and Judy rescue Evelyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of mature topics in this chapter, so take care.
> 
> CW/TW: mentioned rape and torture, rape and torture aftermath, brief self-harm thought, general theme of sexual violence and misogyny

There are memories hard to forget, and the images, smells and taste that burn into the brain forever.

Life ain’t easy for anyone in the Night City, but more women and children than men experience a special kind of hell.

There’s a legit sex work, sure, but there’s also human trafficking, and everything in between, with a varied degree of exploitation. Do most clients care, as long as they can what they want?

The building where Evelyn is held serves one purpose only; to create and sell rape and torture. There’s no roleplay, and the customers aren’t looking for it. It’s real; and how many scumbags in the Night City alone spend their evenings jerking off while watching the worst suffering possible?

It’s beyond fucked up.

V’s shaken, but Nela doesn’t know if he truly gets it. He walks this city worried about getting a bullet to a brain, but his daily fear does not consist of a constant threat of sexual violence. Nela doesn’t remember not having that fear at the back of her head. It’s omnipresent.

Judging from the glance she exchanges with Judy, it hits them differently.

Christ, Nela pleads her thoughts, just don’t let there be children here. Spare that, at least.

* * *

They find Evelyn bruised and beaten, smelling of blood, urine and sperm.

Everyone in the building is dead. There’s nobody else to kill and no one else to rescue; only the poor woman in front of them; alive, but so lethargic that she doesn’t even seem lucid.

“Evelyn,” Judy whispers, and her hands tremble as she touches her friend.

“What’s wrong with her?” Alex asks.

“I dunno,” Judy whispers. “She’s gotta be seriously traumatized.”

Seriously traumatized. Such an innocuous expression, but Nela understand the emphasis. There are hardly women who wouldn’t experience some sexual harassment at the very least, but this…

A special kind of hell, indeed.

“Is her spine okay? Can we move her?” Nela questions.

“Doubt we have a choice,” Judy thins her lips, determined.

She’s right. They wiped out the building, and Nela took over the network; but the Scavs will come back like roaches, and soon.

The only thing they can do is to destroy their equipment. After this ambush, the Scavengers will probably change location, but then the same evil will happen to someone else.

The forever cycle of evil, and what humans do to each other. It never ceases to amaze Nela how vile that can be.

* * *

When they get to Judy’s apartment, Judy wants V outside, but she needs help with Evelyn, so Nela stays. It’s not a matter of friendship or trust. Alex is a man; as simple as that.

Evelyn lets out no sound. She doesn’t help as they undress her or help her soak in the lukewarm bath, but she doesn’t protest either. Nela says nothing, too; her job is to hold and carry and bring items as Judy washes out the blood of Evelyn’s hair, humming a sad sweet tune.

There’s intimacy that Nela intrudes upon, but there’s no other choice. The tragedies often force to share the most delicate and personal of circumstances.

Nela could always count of _babcia Aniela_ , but it doesn’t mean she’d go home to wash off her own blood. She’d come later, with wounds already starting to heal. That’s how she and Alex differ. The shit she expects him to disclose and share; Nela wouldn’t share herself.

They dry up Evelyn, and dress her in Judy’s clothes, and then carry her to bed and cover with warm blankets. Judy sits and the side of the bed, petting Evelyn’s head as Nela goes back to the bathroom and cleans it with a copious amount of bleach, hoping to forget the smell of violence.

The place is spotless by the time she’s done.

“She fell asleep, I think,” Judy says, standing by the door. “Listen, Nela… Thanks. I mean, shit. Thanks.”

“Please,” Nela nods. “I’d do it each time, even if V was not involved.”

“You speak like a Mox.” Judy sighs. “I know what you mean.”

“Did V mention our mother?” Nela asks before she has a chance to bite her tongue.

“No, why?”

“She was a joytoy. Found dead on the job.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the shadow of pain crosses through Judy’s face. “Sometimes I don’t even find the right words.”

“Evelyn’s alive. That’s what matters now. Would you like me to get V out of here?”

“No, there’s a virtu I want to check and run by him. Will you get him?”

“Sure.”

Alex sits by the balcony, looking at the Kabuki at night, smoking a cigarette. He never smokes, and the sight alone pulls Nela into a grip of fear.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” she tries sounding innocent, plopping next to him.

“It’s no longer my own brain,” he shrugs, confirming her suspicions before he passes her a cigarette.

Nela rarely partakes, but now she lets the smoke tickle her throat before she gives the cigarette back. “Judy thinks she might have some leads to help you.”

“Yeah. We’ll see. Thanks for tonight. You know, you got some skills in the field.”

“I don’t know why you sound so surprised. I take gigs, you know. I don’t just sit in the chair and browse the net.”

He gets quiet for a moment, and Nela recognizes that something else troubles him.

“I hate fucking, I hate—,” V chokes on his words. “Were you thinking about her?”

“About mama?” Usually the memory of mama doesn’t form a painful lump in her throat, but tonight it does. “Yeah.”

“She was so young. Younger than me now, and I think of dying, and it’s too soon. I don’t even remember her. I only know her from the photos.”

“Well,” Nela runs her hand through his hair as if he was a child. “You look like her. So do I. We have the same face, it’s disturbing. I remember her. Mama was beautiful, and sweet. She would snuggle you for hours. Bad cook, that I recall as well. I know she loved us the best way she could.”

“Yeah,” Alex nods, hiding his glassy eyes. He stands up and extends his hand to help Nela. “Okay, let’s see what Judy can do.”

“Want me to stay?”

“Would you leave if I told you to?”

“No fucking way.”

“There you go,” he snorts, opening the door to Judy’s apartment.

* * *

Judy processes her grief and sadness with fury, and Alex paces around as well, mumbling to himself.

Only Nela is quiet, fighting the impending sense of doom. How is it possible that every single piece of puzzle is only worse than the previous one?

The Voodoo Boys. Fuck yeah, Nela knows the Voodoo Boys in the sense that every fucking netrunner in this city knows to stay the fuck away from them.

“I gotta make the few calls,” Alex says. “Someone’s gotta know something.”

He’s a gonk that’s going to get slaughtered and now not only he’ll have all the corpos on his back but also the best netrunners around.

Fucking precious. Nela should just jump from the bridge and save herself from watching the inevitable shit show.

They argue at Judy’s apartment; they argue on the way to the subway and then they sit in silence, simmering in anger until they part ways; V taking a train to his Watson apartment and Nela going back to her place.

* * *

Nela hesitates for a moment whether to leave at the train stop in Vista del Ray, close to home, or to travel to the Glen and walk up to River’s apartment and stand in his door and ask him for any crumbles of love he might give her.

The temptation is strong, so strong; but now to act on it could hurt him, too.

It’s not merely about what Nela could put her own heart through.

And on the night like this, she doesn’t wanna fuck. Not after everything she’s seen, where the images and sensations are still vivid in her brain.

Tonight, she’d crawl into River’s bed and snuggle up to him, letting him shield her from the evil around.

Instead, she goes into her apartment and cries in the shower. Why is she crying? Nela doesn’t even know when there are so many reasons.

She cries because of Evelyn and the reminder of what life is worth in this city, and she cries for mama whom she barely remembers, and then for babcia Aniela. She cries for Alex whom she can’t protect no matter what, no matter how hard she tries, and then she cries because she knows that so often she fails at soothing, too. What if Nela misses her goodbye to him, what if she misses saying how much she loves him? What if pushing him to try to save himself will only hasten the process? What if they should be spending every moment together, but they rather jump at each other’s throats?

Then, pathetic as it is, Nela cries for River; for his warmth and sweetness; and his stupid 5-in-1 body wash, and the way he turns reheating frozen foods into a spectacle.

When she finally drags herself into bed, not even bothering to change the sheets, the emptiness becomes unbearable.

Nela doesn’t want to sleep alone; to be alone.

She doesn’t message River. He said they could be friends, but it hasn’t been even a day, and it’s better to leave him be.

Maybe he’s perfectly content. Maybe he’s drinking. Maybe he’s at the bar picking someone else to warm up his side.

It’s pathetic.

What to do? Nela sends a quick text to Judy, the ‘ _whatever you need_ ’ kind, just to hear back from someone. Judy is a quick to respond, and shares the same sentiment.

Then she lets V know that she loves him, but he’s probably asleep.

It’s too lonely; all of it.

* * *

For the next few days, Nela works non-stop, taking every single job she can, catching up on everything she might have neglected while at River’s. The pay isn’t always great, but the fixers are grateful for the turnaround and it allows her to keep a low profile before V inevitably gets too close to the Voodoo Boys.

Oddly enough, he drops the lead for now, heading back to the Badlands again to help his friend Panam.

Alex doesn’t hide the stupid grin when he talks to Nela through the holo, but this time she’s grateful. There might be more value in chasing a girl, flesh and blood, than chasing an elusive cure that might not even exit. Good for him. He’s eager to get away from the city, probably for the best.

Meanwhile, Nela tries to run away from her own thoughts and emotions.

It lasts a short while, until she pushes herself too far and almost makes a lethal mistake during a gig, and comes back home to sob on the kitchen floor.

That’s no way to live.

She could reach out to Misty, to Vik, or friends from before V’s heist, but there’s only person Nela wishes to see.

**_Hey, River. How you’ve been doing?_ **

**Hangin’ in there. What about you?**

**_I’ve been better. To be honest, I’m kind of dealin’ with some shit. I have no right to ask, but would you be game to meet and do something together?_ **

The pause lasts too long, and Nela almost gives up before the answer comes.

**Sure. Tomorrow at 5 pm? Is there somewhere you wanted to go?**

**_I don’t even know. Thank you for doing this, truly_ **

**No problem. Can I pick you up?**

**_Yeah, can you stop by the Skyline East?_ **

**Be there. Take care, Nela :)**

**_Take care, River_ **

River is easy to talk to and whom else Nela can be with right now? He’s the only one who want ask too many questions, and besides—Well, she cares for him. He’s not a stranger anymore. He’s not a lover, either.

A friend, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for reading. The February is proving itself to be a very challenging month, so I'm proud for even writing a short chapter. Comments are welcomed, and take care :)


	14. Sustenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nela and River go to the movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWCW: discussion of rape and violence

Nela stands on the street corner, waiting like a fool as the rain falls on her face. River is fifteen minutes late. She’s tempted to call him, but he wouldn’t stand her up, would he?

She spots his pickup truck, and the wave of relief washes over her. Her heart’s been rattling in restlessness, and she’s not sure what she’d do if River didn’t come.

“I’m sorry,” he says when Nela gets into his car. “There’s some cyberpsycho on the loose. The MAX-TAC unit diverged the traffic, but you know how it is.”

“It’s okay,” Nela breathes, trying to wipe the wetness off her cheeks.

The rain bothers her eyes, mixing with eyeshadow and mascara, because in stupid vanity she put on a full makeup today. 

At first, the tears flow because of the eye irritation, but then something shifts and Nela weeps as car starts moving.

She doesn’t dare to look at River.

“Nela?” He tries after a moment. “Are you crying?”

“Even rainfall in this city is full of acid,” she vents and then follows with a loud sob, impossible to conceal that it is about more than a toxic weather.

“Shit,” River whispers, trying to look behind without taking his eyes off the road for too long. “I have a gym bag on my back seat. It has tissues and fresh clothes if you wanna change. Want me to park somewhere?”

“Nah,” Nela mumbles, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching to grab a bag. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

She wipes off the tears and most of the makeup off her face, and then through sheer acrobatics, she changes her little top into River’s white cotton t-shirt. He fixes his gaze on the road ahead of them, as if mindful not to catch a glimpse of her tits.

“Thanks,” she says, unsure of herself and how much to disclose. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he keeps his voice calm and level. “So, wanna share?”

“I don’t know,” she replies honestly. “I don’t know if I wanna talk about it. I just wanna get my mind off things.”

“Okay,” River says, and if he’s disappointed, he hides it well. “You know I’m not pushy. I’m just saying you can talk to me. I’ve seen some shit, I’ve heard some shit, and I can keep shit to myself, too.”

“Okay,” Nela acknowledges, sniffling. “I’ll remember.”

“Okay,” River repeats. “I kinda gathered that you’d need a pick-me-up. You wanna know what I planned?”

“What?”

“We’re going to the Silver Pixel Cloud drive-in. It’s actually closing next week.”

“It’s closing? That’s pretty depressing,” Nela teases, still fighting tears. “You know it’s raining, right?”

“Barely a drizzle and it shouldn’t rain in North Oak. I checked the weather,” River chuckles. “Come on, Nela. You’re gonna tell me you don’t enjoy watching movies and snacking on salty food and candy? That’s such classic.”

“I haven’t been to the drive-in since I was a teenager.”

“It’s been a while for me, too,” he admits. “I actually lost my virginity in a car in a drive-in theater.”

“Christ,” Nela laughs despite herself. “I don’t know if I needed to know that.”

“Too late now, sorry,” River gives that rugged smile that always melts her heart. “I’m paying for the tickets and the food. You know, to cover for the emotional damage.”

“You sure?” She giggles, eyeing him up and down. “I can eat my body weight in candy.”

“You’re on. I’d like to see that,” he teases.

Perhaps today will cheer her up after all. The rain passes as they enter Westbrook, and by the time they drive through the curved streets of North Oak, the sun is shining high above them.

* * *

On the Wednesday afternoon there are not that many cars pulling into the drive-in theater.

“Have a great time at the Silver Pixel Cloud,” the cashier says, handing Nela printed tickets, handful of flyers and two condoms.

“Jesus,” she mumbles under her breath, passing the condoms to River. “That’s not even subtle.”

“Yeah,” he says, putting them into the glove compartment. “Let’s get some food.”

They buy almost every single snack available; from popcorn to nachos with synth cheese; to Slaughterhouse jerky; Holobites peach pie, Nela’s favorite; two bags of Moonches; two bags of Leelou Beans; a bar of chocolate and cans of Cirrus Cola and Naranjita.

“You know how lift girl’s spirits,” Nela muses, licking the salt and butter off her fingers.

They might not be fucking anymore, but after a certain level of intimacy it feels comfortable to be a little gross while eating.

“Glad to hear it,” River says, stuffing his face full of popcorn. “It really takes me back.”

“Don’t tell me this was the same theatre. Wasn’t it like a quarter of a century ago?”

“Shut up,” he almost chokes, coughing out. “Do you want to kill me, woman?”

“I mean seriously, how old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“River, that is a quarter of a century ago,” Nela notices, much to her amusement.

“I know,” he concedes. “You don’t need to rub it in my face, little girl. No, it wasn’t the same theater. This is much nicer. It was a shady spot right outside Ayorro. Looking back, I’m pretty sure that drive-in served as a money-laundering scheme.”

“That could be said of almost every joint in this city,” she lowers the seat to get herself in a half-lying position. “Your car is actually pretty comfortable.”

“You’re a short thing,” River points out, following suit. “I can’t even dream of straightening my legs.”

“Well, you’re a big boy,” Nela says, and then she cringes internally. It’s too easy for her thoughts turn just a tad naughty and imagine all the delightful, filthy things they could be doing right now.

River smirks, just enough for Nela to guess that he’s thinking the same, so they sit in a moment of silence, chewing on their popcorn before the movie starts.

* * *

The first movie they watch is an action-adventure thriller, featuring lots of CGI and special effects.

“Fuck that,” River mutters, chewing on the jerky and watching the police car jump over a collapsing bridge.

“What?” Nela teases him. “Not realistic enough for you?”

“Certainly not on the NCPD budget,” he nods, taking a gulp of his Naranjita. “It’s a miracle they even pay for our fuel; and only cause of the deal with Petrochem.”

She laughs in response.

“Are you telling me you look like this when netrunning?” River points his soda can at the screen, when a gorgeous actress clad only in underwear is panting and moaning while another person rubs ice cubes on her body.

“I’m sure you know the answer to that,” Nela bites into a peach pie. “The real world always ends up less flashy.”

Except the tragedies like what happened to V. That shit could be a cinematic plot and still nobody would believe it.

By the end of the movie, the sky turns dark. Nela’s stuffed with food and quite relaxed. It might be less about the quality of the entertainment, more about the quality of the company.

Spending time with River, even just as friends, won’t cure her gonk heart of affection, but at least she won’t slip further into the messiness of sex and pretending like they’re a couple. It’s more honest that way.

They both know where they stand with each other. They’re adults, after all.

Still, being with River brings a certain peace that covers her like a warm blanket, letting Nela lower her guard and feel safe.

Warm and safe. That’s it.

* * *

Nela wakes up when River taps her shoulder. She’s all cooped up on the passenger seat underneath his coat as the fur of the collar tickles her cheek.

“Hey,” River murmurs as Nela blinks as the image of his face becomes clearer and clearer.

“Shit,” she mumbles, shifting her body. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Yup,” he says. “You didn’t even wait for the movie to begin.”

“Sorry,” she gives him a small smile.

“No worries. It was kinda cute. I didn’t want you to get cold, so I gave you my coat.”

It smells like River, the scent that Nela misses so badly.

“How was the movie?”

“Terrible. Better than the first one, though. I think they’re closing this place soon.”

“I gotta make a quick stop in the bathroom. Too much cola,” she hides her yawn. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’m gonna go, too.”

The wind hits as soon as Nela gets outside, realizing that she’s wearing little clothing aside of River’s white-shirt.

Oh well. It’s not the most revealing outfit she’s ever put on.

There’s almost no one around except the few cars left. The last weekend might attract more people but it seems that the management and the employees all forfeited any care for this place.

The evening was nice, anyway, although now that it comes to an end, the familiar sadness weights on Nela. It’s late; she’s already monopolized River’s attention for hours, and it would be unfair to ask for more, especially at this time of the night.

Yes, he’s still unemployed, but it doesn’t mean he has unlimited time for her.

Friends, they’ve said. See, the thing is that many people offer friendship at the end of situationships, but they don’t actually mean it. Does Nela even wants to be friends with River? Sure, yeah, in many ways, but she also doesn’t wish to hear about him moving on and dating someone else. That would sting; so what kind of friendship do they have?

Well, the only friendship available right now.

* * *

They don’t drive far before Nela asks if they could talk and River stops the car at the little view point hidden in the residential area of North Oak.

Funny how different life seems in the rich part of the Night City. Even the view is nicer, as if this city was a joyful place, full of color.

“I’m not gonna drag anything out of you,” River looks ahead, and at the very least he doesn’t sound impatient. “But I can ask questions if you think that helps. I’m guessin’ it’s to do with your brother?”

“Yeah, but that’s not all there is to it,” she sighs. “We did one of those jobs that fucks you up. Hit the Scavs’ place. They had a film studio. You can imagine the rest.”

“Yeah,” he nods, glancing at her.

“I’ve had a few jobs like that, seeing the complete scum of the earth. I dunno, River, it always messes me up. You’d think that after being raised in this city I’d get used to all this shit, but I think as I’m getting older it gets even worse. When I was young, I was resilient. I used to have so much hope for the world and everything in it, and now it just eats away at my soul.”

“I’m sorry,” River mutters, but even those the words are simple, it doesn’t seem like he’s brushing her off.

“I just don’t understand, you know? I’m not innocent. I’ve killed people myself. Impossible to do what I do and not to whack a ganger on the job sometimes, but I still cannot comprehend how you take someone and rape and torture them. I’m a Heywood girl, I don’t even remember being innocent, but still there’s part of my mind that cannot grasp how one hurt another human like this.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ve never told you, but my mother was a joytoy. Not the fancy kind. Just another sweet-faced blonde girl from Eastern Europe. She had me at nineteen. She died when I was seven. Some psycho strangled her on a job. I don’t know who - a thug, a bored corpo looking for a thrill, a cop? It’s not like we’d ever find out. At least I hope she didn’t suffer much beforehand, though I cannot be sure of that. They don’t waste resources on joytoys in this city. The last gig made me think of my mother again, and then of my own life and how worthless it is.”

“I’m sorry about your mother. That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” her voice shakes. “You know, it’s only luck that I’m still here. I could pretend it’s due to my skills, and maybe now they protect me, but all my teen years and early twenties it was just sheer dumb luck that I’ve somehow scraped by and that I’m still here.”

“The world is better for it,” River says.

Her eyes sting, and Nela frowns, angry and yet disarmed.

Maybe that’s why she’s here. Not for the talk, certainly not for the advice, but to feel that she matters for someone who matters to her. Someone who doesn’t owe her the loyalty of creed and blood.

She’d ask for a hug, but if River hugged her she’d want to kiss him, and if they kissed, she might have to tell him she’s in love.

“You know,” River adds after a moment. “I was wrong about you when we met.”

“How so?” She breathes.

“I asked you if you even had principles, remember?”

“Oh, that? Yeah, you were a fucking asshole,” Nela admits readily. “It really stung.”

“I thought you were nihilistic at first,” he says. “That you didn’t care about right and wrong like so many in this city. Instead, you cared enough to warn me what might happen if I pursued the investigation further. It’s easy to see now how much you care about people, about the world. I’m sorry you’re hurting. I wish it was different. I wish this world was better, believe me. Still, I think it matters that you have a good heart.”

The heart inside trembles.

“You don’t even know me that well,” she whispers.

“Come on,” River gives her a knowing glance. “I know you a little”

Yeah, he does.

“You do,” she agrees, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. “Thank you for saying that. And thanks for today. I had a lot of fun, even if I was asleep for half of it.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he smiles. “Ready to go now?”

“Yeah,” Nela agrees, although part of her doesn’t wish to leave him. “Thanks for everything.”

The world has not changed an iota, but tonight Nela’s pain troubles her a little less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for the comments, I truly appreciate them a lot :)
> 
> I know that in the game Silver Pixel Cloud has been closed for a few years, but I've decided to shift the timeline and close it now, before V ever makes it there. I had an idea for this chapter before finishing the game so that's the result.
> 
> Both Nela and River are reticent talkers, so this is a pretty slow burn, but don't worry, we're going forward and soon (in a few chapters) we're going to reach the events from the Hunt.


	15. Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River asks Nela for a favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: some mild sexual thoughts

Each day, they exchange quick messages. River lets her know of the progress with his PI license and meeting some old cop buddies to build connections and help his future business. Nela shares updates from her work and that she’s feeling better than the few days ago.

It makes for an odd dance to navigate the contact with the man she wants; especially if he wants her, too. It hurts to think of losing him, and the world seems too precarious at the moment to dive into the love that could drown her.

Nela isn’t sure whether she doesn’t trust River, or herself, or this city. The rare good endings fade underneath the pain and loss. After a while it makes it difficult to try when every try comes at the price of acquiring fresh scars.

It used to be easy to fall for someone; to fall fast and hard and to act on it, but hindsight Nela wishes to take many of those moments back.

Sometimes life takes more than it gives. Certainly men Nela chooses usually take more than they give.

There are many rational reasons on why River would make a poor partner. He’s older, set in his habits. He worked in a toxic environment for years, buying into the culture. He’s unemployed and bored at the moment, with too much time on his hands.

People can meet in the transient stage of life and share a moment, but that doesn’t mean the moment should last.

Nonetheless, it grips at Nela’s heart to think of letting him go.

Not once has River refused to be there for her, to show his care. Not once has he failed her.

* * *

It takes two days for River to call.

“Hi,” Nela says, smiling a little too brightly while looking at the holo.

“Hey,” he smiles as well, unleashing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “Sorry to bother you. I’m actually calling on a favor if you have any time to spare.”

“What’s up?”

“I could use a netrunner,” River admits as his grin turns into a sigh. “Finally got my PI license and I’m realizing that all my life I’ve dependent on the NCPD cybersecurity. I need a new hardware, I need to figure out how to organize the case files. I don’t expect you to get involved, and I even have some eddies to pay someone, I just don’t know where to go to avoid getting ripped off.”

“Stop it,” she tells him. “Save your damn eddies. I can go shopping with you and set your computer. You can buy me dinner or something. You free now?”

“Yup. Ping me where we should meet. Thanks, Nela. I owe you.”

At least Nela has enough reason to send him the address of the Watson electronics store, close to the netrunner shop she trusts. It forces her to take her own bike, but at least it means they won’t be returning to Heywood together, so there won’t be a temptation for Nela to invite him over.

Christ, but she misses him. The way he kisses, the way he runs his hands on her body, the feel of him inside. There are many ways for a girl to get off on her own, but Nela craves more than a release.

It’s the intimacy she longs for. His whispers in the night, their bodies entailed together in heat and sweetness, the look on River’s face when he comes, the snuggling afterwards, waking up next to him, eating breakfast to bed.

If she could let herself be, if she’d tell River the truth about V and what’s going on, would he even take a chance on her? He has his own family to protect, however stained their relationship is right now. Why would he risk so much for a woman he just met?

* * *

Today the sun scorches as if to punish the citizens of the Night City.

River leans on his pick up track, clad in jeans and a crisp white tank top that contrasts with his warm light brown skin. He’s such a fine man that it should be forbidden.

The warmth radiates from him, too, especially when he smirks at her sight.

Unlike the rainy drive-in meet up, today Nela looks the part, dressed like a Heywood girl in cut out jean shorts and rose-patterned bustier. Her hair is freshly styled, and even the nails are new, sparkling gold.

The last they saw each other, River was very proper; and while right now he tries to be careful, his eyes still land on her tits for a second too long.

Why does it feel so good? It’s easy to evoke desire. Any other man on the street can stare at her like that, but there’s an undeniable thrill in the hungry look River gives her.

“I’m quite impressed,” he comments as she puts her helmet into the bike’s storage. “Wearing helmet like a good girl. The badge in me approves.”

“If you pay as much as I did for the cyberdeck,” Nela quips, “you learn how to be precious with your own head. Ready?”

“Lead the way. I’m following your command.”

River talks a lot again, excited at the job prospect and almost a bit ashamed, as if he needed a push of encouragement and someone to believe in him, so Nela gives it to him as they buy what they need to set his home-office.

It’s a sign of trust, she knows it, that he comes to her.

* * *

They drive up to the Little China’s waterfront. It is a River’s idea, and the offer of lunch and shaved ice convinces Nela. The weather begs to sit at the water, and she’s positive that she could get River’s new laptop fully secure in less than two hours, anyway.

What she doesn’t account for is the proximity to the Konpeki plaza, which stands proudly on the horizon as the painful reminder of her gonk brother’s fate.

For weeks, Nela has avoided Watson.

“You okay?” River digs into his tacos with no shame.

“Don’t you dare to eat over your new toy once I’m done,” Nela shoots him a warning glance. “I mean it. The hardware is good, but respect it.”

“Yes, m’am,” he responds, mouth half-full, and Nela takes a moment take a bite of her own food. It’s not too bad, indeed. Worth the tourist price, actually, especially when she’s not the one footing the bill. “Just out of curiosity, how good of a netrunner are you?”

“Good enough,” she snorts. “You shouldn’t have any problem with my work. I’m adding a couple of software upgrades I wrote myself and use of my hardware. As long as you keep a reasonably low profile and don’t piss off a bunch of Voodoo Boys or corpos, this shall be enough for your needs, and you’d notice if someone tried to get into your network.”

“It was just being curious.”

“My skills are better than the jobs I take,” she mumbles, lost in the screen in front of her. “That’s the key to survival in this city for me.”

“I’m afraid that will be hard for the PI,” he muses to himself. “You know, I’ve done some solo work, but still, I’ve always had a partner at the end of the day. This will change now.”

“I prefer working alone, but I’m selective over the jobs I take.”

“My buddy said that the reputation best spreads through the word of mouth. Still, I guess I need a website to start.”

“I know a gonk who’s a web-designer. I could give you his contact and if you tell him you know me, he might offer you a discount.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

She snaps her gaze at him. “His cousin is in jail, though, so I’d make if you didn’t put him there before reaching out.”

“Story of my life,” River chuckles. “I wonder if that will be a problem now that I’m in the private sector.”

Nela thinks for a second. “I don’t think so. Have you had issues at this point?”

“Not more than the typical huffin’ and puffin’. I never took bribes, and I tried to be smart moving the streets.”

“You won’t like my suggestion, but once you solve a case or two and figure out what type of gigs you wanna specialize in, you could try with the few fixers.”

“I’m familiar with Sebastian Ibarra,” River admits. “We kept in touch over several cases, one of them a kid's murder. He seemed to care. He’s not my biggest fan, but at least he doesn’t hate me. I presume you know him?”

“Oh, I know Padre,” Nela nods. “Listen, I hate making promises like that, but finish a couple of gigs and I can drop your name to the fixers I know. I’ve worked hard on my reputation, so don’t overstep my offer, ‘aight?”

“Would never do it,” he says. “That’s not why I keep asking you questions, by the way, as much as I appreciate your help. I don’t wanna make it seem like I’m trying to take advantage of you. I’m just trying to get to you know better, I guess. You keep your cards close to your chest, I respect that.”

“Nova, River, for real,” she smiles to him. “I’m not really worried about that. If anything, I’m gonna take the advantage of you and your offer of buying shaved ice.”

He really looks too handsome, grinning at her when he gets up from the table. “Hear you loud and clear. What flavor would you like?”

“Coconut and mango?”

“Coming right up.”

* * *

Now that the work is done and Nela just waits to run diagnostics and perform the last checks, her thoughts turn into other matters.

_Fuck._

She notices how close River is sitting, how inviting his arms are, how seductive is his scent. Yeah, Nela is horny. She could blame it on the stress, or on the surrounding heat, but the simple truth is that she wants the man across her.

What’s even worse, she knows him. It’s one thing to wonder how it would be, to fantasize about the eventualities, it’s another to know someone intimately, to memorize the map of their body, to learn all the sweet spots.

To be in love.

River licks his spoon, and Nela’s ready to grunt in frustration. He’s not trying to be sexy, devouring his shaved ice and smacking his lips. Honestly, he’s always a bit of a sloppy eater, trained by years of taking meals in a hurry. It’s not sexy, and yet here is Nela, gawking at him with no shame, thinking of his face between her legs.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Nela lies, feeling her face getting red.

If she’s honest with herself about how they have no future, she should end it here and now and save her heart from further damage. It would be better for both of them.

The real problem is that she wants more, that she wishes to have courage and ask for more. She looks back at her naïve twenty-year-old past self who would give love to any man who glanced her way, and she wishes to use some of that girl’s gonk optimism.

Even thinking about it feels like betraying V, whose time is running out.

And yet Alex is not here. Alex is not living his life reconnecting with his sister, he’s spending his days with some Nomad girl, doing God-knows-what in the desert.

One thing is certain for Nela: if they were to date, she’d have to tell River the truth. About the heist, about the danger looming over Alex and herself. Yet not all of it is hers to share.

She’d have to welcome River in and let him see all the messiness inside of her.

Nela has always loved harder than the men who claimed to love her in return.

She’s not brave lately. Her cup is empty, and she can’t bring herself to take a risk right now.

River hugs her at the end, his hands touching the bare skin on her lower back. She buries her face into his chest, breathing him in.

“Thank you for everything,” he murmurs over her head.

“Anytime,” Nela whispers, although there are other words she should say instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we're honestly very close the culmination of all those repressed feelings ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading and huge thanks for all the comments that fuel and inspire my writing <3 I hope you're staying safe. I personally can't wait for the spring.


	16. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tragedy strikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter contains canonical suicide of a character, mentions of sexual violence, sexual harassment, verbal humiliation, physical violence, mild gore, mentions of vomit and misogyny.
> 
> I know those warnings sound very serious, but rest assured that I keep the descriptions of violence brief and non-gratifying. I like using the warnings, so I prefer to be careful than to risk for you to read content you don't feel like reading today.

The call from Judy comes when Nela is at the local supermarket buying groceries. She drops the basket on the floor and runs out. No sense of even getting back to the apartment to get the bike. It’s the rush hour, the subway will be faster.

It takes thirty-five minutes to get to Judy’s place, and in those thirty-five minutes Nela replays the crying and the wailing, bracing herself for what she’s to witness.

“In the bathroom!” Judy shouts as soon as Nela walks through the door to the apartment. The plastic bags of food are on the corridor floor.

Blood covers the tub and the tiles around. Evelyn did not even run water to slice through her veins. Now she’s lying there pale and lifeless, features fixed. Like a real doll.

Nela fights the pang of nausea as the ferrous smell of blood hits her nostrils.

Fuck. They had saved her, they had actually fucking saved her only the few days ago. That woman had a fucking chance and now she’s gone forever, another victim of this terrible world.

“I wasn’t gone even an hour,” Judy weeps. “I had to go shopping as we were running out of food. She didn’t talk to me, but she seemed better lately. She’d eat, we’d watch movies and listen to music.”

“It’s not your fault,” Nela squats next to the woman. “It’s not her fault, either.”

“I’m so—,” Judy’s breath catches in her throat as tears fall down her cheeks. “I’m so fucking mad at her. She was my friend, and now she’s dead and I’m just mad at her.”

“That’s normal,” Nela whispers, cognizant of how she feels about V most of the time. Full of love and frustration. “Doesn’t mean you cared for her any less.”

“I don’t know,” Judy sighs. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

“What do you wanna do right now? Did you call V?”

“I gotta call the badges. I can’t risk any trouble. V said he’d be there. He’s coming from the Badlands.”

“Okay,” Nela nods. “We got you.”

* * *

The badges refuse to come for Evelyn until Judy throws a fit, cussing them out and hurling threats during the call, so Nela braces herself to step in as the mediator when they arrive. The last thing Judy needs are a bunch of angry cops tempted to put a woman in her place.

“Can you help me move her?” Judy looks at her. “They won’t even care, and I’d like to dress her before those fucking pigs get their hands on her. She’s had enough of creeps fondling her and staring at her while alive. I want her to look like a person, not a dead body.”

“Yeah,” Nela agrees.

Judy’s right. The badges care about high-profile deaths, but suicides are rarely investigated, and even if they suspected murder, few care about how sex workers end up dead.

The rigor mortis has started to set, and it’s much harder to handle Evelyn now than it was to carry her alive. Maybe it’s a gruesome thought, but it mostly fills Nela with astounding sadness.

Some would have said that Evelyn was gone the moment they rescued her. There are kinds of people who like to remind survivors that their lives are already over, but Nela knows it’s not true. Oftentimes suicide is a spur of a moment, the horrible tragedy that didn’t need to happen. If there was more help available, if this world actually cared, perhaps Evelyn would have lived.

Perhaps Evelyn would have had a better chance if there were other options available to heal aside from licking wounds at her bestie’s apartment.

Judy did what she could, using all the tools she had at hand.

But this fucking city, this fucking world, should be offering more.

They dress up Evelyn, struggling to put on black yoga pants and a clean plan shirt. Judy’s sobbing out loud, stopping every few seconds, and Nela can’t fully hide her own tears and the trembling of her chin.

“Thanks,” Judy whispers at the end, shaking like a leaf before Nela pulls her into a hug and lets her cry and scream it out.

* * *

After a couple of hours the place looks spotless yet again, at least before Nela activates her Kiroshi. It’s hard to wash off all that blood, but she’s done the best she could do.

V and Judy have moved to the rooftop, playing old school music and drinking tequila when she joins them.

“Who’s singing?” Nela plops on the chair as Alex passes her the bottle.

“Joni Mitchell,” Judy says. “True vintage. Evie loved her.”

“What was Evelyn truly like?” V asks.

Nela wonders if he holds a resentment, but it doesn’t seem that way, although it was Evelyn who organized the heist and who lied about the particulars and put everyone in danger. For all his stupidity and other vices, Alex never holds a grudge for too long.

Christ, he’s probably already made friends with the terrorist in his brain.

They drink and talk and toast to a life that’s lost, letting Judy spill all the tales she wishes to share. There’s plenty; some sad, some joyful, all complicated. Evelyn was a complex woman. 

At the end V decides to crash at Judy’s place since he’s too wasted to drive, but Nela needs to get back, take a shower and cry it out, and fall asleep in her own bed.

* * *

Nela hasn’t been so fucking inebriated in years. She takes careful steps to the subway; she holds onto the rails, practicing deep breaths to stay as sober as possible. She misses her stop and curses silently. The underground confuses her now. It seems too complicated to find the right elevator to get to another platform and catch the right train back when she can leave the station and stroll home. Slowly.

It should take fifteen minutes. Twenty, maybe, in her state.

The night air is cold, and she’s not even wearing a jacket, only jeans and a crop top, but at least the breeze sobers her up a bit.

Or so she thinks.

To be aware of one’s surrounding is the first lesson given to Heywood children. This part of Vista Del Rey is particularly nasty, but it’s home and Nela knows the streets.

It’s eerie how empty the city can become in some areas after dark. Some places burst with music and lights, some get quiet and precarious. 

She crosses the dark street underneath the overpass. In a couple of minutes, she’ll reach the residential area and breathe a little easier.

Perhaps if Nela wasn’t drunk, she’d notice the car behind her sooner. She thinks it’s another perv trying to pick her up, so she ignores the driver.

When the four men jump out of the car, Nela bolts, but one of the fuckers is fast as lightning. Cyberware.

Fuck!

The pain rumbles through her, exploding like fire, knocking her brain out for a second. Did she scream or not? There’s wetness and pain, so much pain. Is it blood or did she piss herself?

Danger, danger! Her mind warns.

It must be instinct for her to use the quicksands because she doesn’t recall any of it, but she blinks and all of a sudden the men around her are dead and she is almost out of RAM.

Scavs. Fucking Scavengers. Fuck.

She pats around her ribs, feeling the handle of the blade. Knife. Her head dizzies. Help, she needs help, there’s nobody here. Who can help, who?

“Nela?” River picks up right away. He’s in the car, good. “What’s wrong?”

“Help,” she begs, straining in pain, sending him the vid of her own wound and the location. “Help.”

“Fuck!!!” He screams, and then she hears the sound of the tires. “Nela, baby, stay with me, okay?”

“Mhm,” she strains, pinging him the address to Vik’s clinic. “Need a ripper.”

“That’s in Watson, baby, you might not have the time,” River rasps. “I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Mhm. No hospitals. Only the ripper. Please. Promise,” Nela whimpers, shutting her eyes.

She hears River’s words, but she can’t keep up with the meaning.

There’s pain, so much pain, only pain. How much time passes? She slips in and out of consciousness, panting on the cold concrete, surrounded by the dead Scavengers.

“Almost there, Nela,” River says on the comms. “Stay with me.”

Nela fights her own body and mind, managing until the lights of the car stop right in front of her. Until River puts his hands on her.

Then she blacks out.

* * *

The first thing Nela recognizes is pain, sharp and yet subdued in comparison to what she last registered before passing out. The second is Vik’s face, staring at her.

“Look who’s awake now,” he smiles to her and somehow the look on his face is enough to calm her down. “Try saying something.”

“Christ,” she gives it her best effort, making Vik laugh.

“Gave me quite the scare. That muscle and bone lace did you a whole lotta favor, kid. You also scared the shit out of your input. Had to convince him to bring you to me instead of dumping you at the hospital. Am I the only one aware that you’re using the Netwatch cyberdeck? You gotta tell some people before something like this happens. Certainly tell your input. This is a reportable enhancement, you know it. Unlike the corpos, Netwatch gets prissy with shit like that.”

“I know,” Nela whines in pain. “I know, Vik. I’m not on anyone’s radar. This was just… unfortunate. And he’s not my input.”

“Isn’t he your input?” Viktor raises his eyebrows. “Because River didn’t correct my assumption. Nice guy. Likes boxing, too. We shared a couple of beers. You were out for hours.”

“It’s complicated between us,” she mutters. “He went home?”

“Nah, he’s napping at Misty’s shop. I sent him there after he started dozing off by your bed and I could hear him snore from the office. Grated on my nerves.”

Nela giggles, but it hurts too much. “Stop making me laugh.”

“Sorry. I gave you another dose a minute ago, the pain should lessen soon. It will hurt for a day or two, though, even with the meds.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re lucky, that’s what you are.”

“I know,” she sighs, thinking of what would have happened if they caught her. Her cyberdeck is a top class, and rescuing Evelyn proved that Scavs have other use for fresh meat, too. It sickens Nela to even consider what they’d do to her.

“I heard you zeroed the attackers.”

“I think it was instinct. I don’t even remember, but hey, at least that cyberdeck is worth the money I shelled out for it those couple of years ago.”

“You seemed to have a good ripper before me. Shame she died.”

“Yeah,” Nela smiles. “You’re stuck with me as your patient now. At least I’m finally bringing you real eddies instead of coming for the boring system check. What’s the damage?”

“There’s no rush. You can pay me anytime.”

“Just tell me what you needed to do.”

“I did more than less. Figured you’d want that. I added another weave to cover for the damage you sustained, especially because your ribs had been damaged before.”

“Yeah,” Nela briefly thinks of her piece of shit ex.

“I also added the Biomonitor. Had to do it, otherwise you’d need to put more chrome into your body, and I know you don’t like it.”

“I’m vain like that,” Nela agrees. “How much, Vik?”

“42000. Sorry. There’s really no hurry. I have a few corpo clients I mooch off, so I can be more lenient with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Nela whispers, knowing that Viktor already charged almost nothing for the labor and he never charged V for any of the treatments after the heist. It’s the matter of honor. “I have some eddies saved for such an occasion. Pay you 22000 now, the rest after I figure out the math of my finances? I wanna hold on to some cash in case V needs something.”

“Sure, kid,” Vik nods when she transfers the funds.

Well, she’ll be calling Reyes in the week. The Santo Domingo fixer pays damn well, though the profile of the gigs is often tad more risky.

“Thanks, Vik. For saving my skin.”

“My pleasure. You will have scaring but it’s minimal. Small ink will cover it.”

“You know how to make a girl happy.”

“Yeah,” Vik chuckles. “Should I call your input-no-input?”

“Yeah,” Nela smiles. “You didn’t let V know, did you?”

“River wanted to, but he didn’t after I told him you’d prefer to do it yourself. You know, it ain’t my biz, but you could let your brother worry about you a little, though I kinda get it given the circumstances.”

“We drank last night together. He’d drive here, hangover, and be useless and annoy me. This is better.”

“As you wish. I’ll prepare your meds. You could go home, but you’ll need help. I don’t care who your help is.”

“I’ll ask River,” Nela nods, too reasonable to put up a fight. “He’ll say yes.”

* * *

Nela manages a quick conversation with Alex, waiting for River. V’s already in the car, driving up to the Badlands again, and she downplays what happened.

Her little brother never asks too many questions, unlike her.

“Hey, there,” River stands in the door, unable to mask his tiredness. “How are you feelin’?”

“Been better,” she tries to lift herself up, but the pain stops her. River walks up to the bed and sits at the edge. “Thanks for the last night.”

“Of course. I’m glad I was already driving and not far away. Fuck, Nela, you got me worried for a minute there.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs, reaching out for his hand as they interlock their fingers. “I’ll pay to get your car cleaned.”

“Stop it,” he orders, caressing her wrist with his thumb. “I’m just relieved you’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Nela gives him a small smile. “Heywood girls are not that easy to kill.”

“Mhm,” he swallows. He must have worried for real. “Good. Viktor said I could take you home after he prepares your medication.”

“I feel bad for asking—”

“—Nela, don’t,” he rasps. “I’m taking care of you, that’s the end of it. Done deal. I’m not arguing about it.”

“Okay,” she nods, squeezing his hand. “Okay.”

“I thought you might live with your brother,” he admits. “That’s why we’d… always meet at my place.”

The shame brews in her chest as she pings him the address. “No, I live alone. I’m just… private and skittish. I rarely invite anyone over.”

“Well, I guess you have no choice now,” he smirks, staring into her eyes.

His face is solemn, full of care and need that Nela doesn’t know how to name yet.

“I’m so happy you’re here, River.”

They don’t let go of each other's hands until it’s time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a rough chapter.
> 
> I wanted to emphasize that Evelyn's death was the perfect storm of overlapping circumstances, not something that had to happen. We can simultaneously agree that Evelyn had a chance on life and that Judy did what she could in the circumstances given how there are extremely limited services in the Night City and the whole fabric of the society essentially doesn't exist. Survivors of violence of any sort are worthy, and their lives are worthy, always, and there's healing available. 
> 
> I had a lot of feelings when Evelyn died in the game. I also had feelings about how the game portrays sexual violence in general (not only critical), and I tried to incorporate some of it in this chapter.
> 
> When it rains, it pours, so I always planned for Nela to get attacked on one day when she actually lets go of her inner control because she of grieving. The fact that she chooses to lean on River is a big deal, because her whole life Nela has been trained to be a giver. She's already a parented sibling. 
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will contain pure hurt/comfort and a lot of vulnerability. I hope you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and please remember how valuable your comments are to me :)


	17. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River takes care of Nela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of rape/torture/suicide

There’s a crusted stain of blood on the passenger seat of the Thornton pick up. A reminder of minutes Nela doesn’t recall. She tries to imagine River with Vik on the comms; River driving frantically, Viktor receiving the images of the wound, preparing the clinic for their arrival, telling River that ending up in the ER would not make for a better outcome.

“I got you,” River mutters now, lowering the seat so she’d more comfortable during the drive, buckling up the seatbelt for her.

The care seems almost silly, but once again, Nela hasn’t been conscious to witness the worst of her distress. If River fusses over her tonight, less than a day after she could have bled in his car, then it’s only fair to let him.

Besides, she’d lie if it wasn’t soothing.

“All good?” River asks, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he takes a deep breath as if to brace himself before he starts the car.

They travel in silence through the glamor of the Corporate Plaza, beautiful, luxurious and fake. Vista Del Rey shocks in its ordinary poverty even more right after passing through the City Center. Few blocks down emerges a different world. Her world.

Nela doesn’t know what to make of her relationship with Heywood. Heywood defines her identity more than any other characteristic. It intersects with religion, it intersects with heritage and culture, it permeates the most private memories, most intimate feelings.

You can take a girl from Heywood, but you can’t quite take Heywood from a girl when it has shaped who she is.

There’s community in Heywood. The comfortable familiarity of the rules on the streets. The home houses many dangers, and it doesn’t hide it.

Yet Nela feels betrayed that she almost got killed so close to where she sleeps peacefully at night.

It is the same betrayal that spread across her heart the day _babcia_ Aniela died.

It must be the same betrayal that made V skip town. Now he’s back, but when it came to getting his own place, he chose Watson, not Heywood.

“Viktor said you were quite inebriated,” River says in such trained badge voice that Nela snorts, clenching her abdominal muscles, which brings a wave of pain.

“Tequila never agrees with me.”

He itches to ask more questions, tightening his grip on the driving wheel. Christ, maybe it hasn’t been long, but she’s stared into his face plenty of times to read him quite well now. She planned on telling him, anyway.

“Remember our conversation after the drive-in?” She whispers.

“Yes, of course.”

“We actually rescued a woman on that job,” Nela measures her words as the bitter sadness travels through her veins. “She, uhm,” her voice trembles. “She killed herself yesterday when the choomba with whom she was staying went to get some food.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I’m so sorry, Nela. I know how you felt after that gig.”

“I wished she lived, you know? Such an injustice. So unfair. Later on me, my brother and the friend drank too much tequila, celebrating her life.”

“Did you know her well?”

Nela wonders how to answer that. She didn’t know Evelyn, but she knows many like her.

“No,” she admits. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter, I think. It seemed right to pay my respects. Tequila is poison, though. Never again.”

Another death and another funeral come to mind. Jackie, who always mocked her for insisting on vodka’s superiority.

“How did you end up at that underpass?”

“I missed my station. I was fucking wasted, all right? It seemed a better idea to take a walk than to try to remember which platform I should use to go back. Apparently I have no sense of direction underground when drunk. It was dumb. A kind of gonk shit my brother would do.”

He raises his eyebrow at her defensiveness, but doesn’t push. Smart man.

She really should have used an autotaxi last night, even though there’re expensive as fuck.

“Next time call me. I’d drop you off.”

“There won’t be a next time. Trust me, a knife between the ribs is a painful lesson that needs no repeating. Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you.”

“Always ready to protect and serve, ma’am,” River deadpans while she grunts in disgust at the police reference.

“Please don’t advertise that in my apartment building,” she teases him as they turn the corner of Vine and Pajaro. “There’s the entrance to the garage.”

Unlike V, Nela doesn’t live in a megabuilding but rather in the old and poor five-floor Vista Del Rey tenement.

“That’s pretty oldschool,” River comments, maneuvering through the small garage.

“Yup. No elevators,” Nela says. “My grandmother rented this place almost fifteen years ago. It’s not the best area, but the neighbors are decent. It might be the Slavic block of Vista Del Rey. You might hear as much Russian as Spanish. You recognize my Kusanagi? You can park on the left.”

River smirks.

“What?” Nela clacks her tongue.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, but Nela tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. “Fine, fine. Maybe it’s the detective in me, but there are many things you never disclosed, and I ain’t gonna lie, I’m quite curious to see your place.”

* * *

The stairs are punishing after the anesthesia and being cut open, so River carries her onto the fourth floor, apartment 23.

“Nice,” River looks around as they enter inside. “Bigger than my place.”

“Two bedroom,” Nela kicks off her shoes and River follows suit. “Remember, at some point the three of us used to live here: me, V and our grandmother. She passed a little over three years ago. I had moved out a few times, but I always came back. Make yourself at home, I will show you around.”

“You don’t wanna sit down?”

“In a moment,” she says, hiding a smile. “Don’t you want to satisfy your curiosity?”

After _babcia_ Aniela died and V fled the city, Nela made the few changes to suit her needs and tastes. One bedroom turned into the netrunner’s workspace, and the whole crib got a fresh coat of paint, including the pastel pink focal wall in the main living area and the bedroom.

The old baby blue kitchen cabinetry has remained the same alongside the white round table with mismatched chairs, the ancient leather sofa, still comfy and the storage, but Nela infused the rest of the space with color. Yellow curtains, woven carpet in all the shades of the rainbow, the photos and posters on the walls.

Still, she never dared to touch the Virgin Mary icon hanging above the front door or _babcia_ Aniela’s favorite blue armchair.

“You really keep surprising me,” River comments, grinning to her. “That’s way more vibrant than I thought it’d be.”

“Really?” Nela crosses her arms, frowning to mock him. “My pink hair and matching pubes were not a clue enough for the old detective?”

River laughs, and his cheeks gain a bit of flush.

“Apparently not,” he fixes his gaze on the photo. “That must be your mother, right? You look like her.”

“Yep,” Nela agrees. “Come on, let’s see the rest.”

An odd pride hits her as they walk around. Nela has never brought many people here, especially men. She’d always go to their places. Only natural when one shared an apartment with their grandmother, however tolerant that might have been. After her death, Nela had a guest or two, but she still finds herself protective of her home.

River never got an invitation for a different reason; to keep her feelings at bay.

Clearly that strategy didn’t work.

She shows him the bathroom. Powder blue tiles. Shower curtain with a flamingo pattern. Large fake plant in the corner since there’s no window. The bathmat that says “hello gorgeous” and too many beauty products around the sink. It’s a tiny bathroom, but it fits a washer with a dryer and a tub instead of a just a shower.

Then, the netrunning room; the place she put in so many eddies. It took a minute to earn and get all this hardware, but it’s all preem now. River whistles in awe, and that makes her feel good.

At last, the bedroom. Simple bed with storage. Built-in closets with mirrored doors on another side. Wooden dresser rescued from the trash. Pink wall behind the headboard, _babcia_ Aniela’s quilt on top. Abstract art prints Nela klepped while on a job like a decade ago. Corkboard with photos that River studies, smiling to himself.

“Happy now?” Nela asks, not able to hide her smirk. “Feel like you know me better?”

“Oh, yeah,” he gives her a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah?” She pries. “Wanna share your observation?”

“The investigation is pending, ma’am.”

Nela giggles, bringing her hand to her face, and then she hisses when the pain pulls around her stomach and she grips her side. “You can’t make me laugh, asshole.”

“All right, little girl, let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay,” she’s too groggy for anything else, but the cheap shorts and tank Vik put her in post surgery are already sweaty and yucky. “Gotta wash up first and change.”

* * *

Peeing hurts, because sitting and bending brings pain, but at least Nela is able to do it on her own.

What she’s unable to do on her own is to undress herself, and to fully wash up, so River acts like her personal nurse.

Sure, he has seen her nude form multiple times. There’s hardly an inch of her skin he hasn’t fucking licked, but sex is mighty different from having a former lover cut out the stinky post-op clothes off her body, and then sponge bathe every area Nela can’t reach.

Yeah, she kinda covers herself with a towel, and River does not make it awkward. As a badge, he experienced it all. Besides, that’s how he is. During the time she’s known him, not once did he try to cross boundaries or make her uncomfortable.

None of it makes it easier to stand practically naked and lean against the sink, watching him kneel, his face lined up with her pussy, lifting her feet one by one to slide the fresh pair of undies on her.

Worse comparison hits her brain; Evelyn exposed, washed by a friend and then stranger she couldn’t have known.

There are things one cannot manage alone. At least she doesn’t need to get Alex to help out. She’d kill him by now.

“Hands up,” River orders, so the towel falls down on the floor, baring her tits as he puts a shirt on her; the same ‘Fuck the Police’ tank he gave her after their first tryst.

Nela loves that shirt. It’s long and comfy enough, and it’s his.

“Thanks,” she mutters as he picks up the clothing to toss it away.

“No worries.”

Nela brushes her teeth, studying her reflection. There’s a minor cut and bruising on her face when her cheek hit the concrete. She looks tired and messy, but she’s still here. Banged up, with new bioware inside and a fucking debt; but she’s here.

* * *

River does the whole shebang; he fluffs the pillows, brings her a glass of water, tucks her into blankets so she’s wrapped like a burrito, warm and comfortable.

He probably learned that while caring for his sister’s kids. It seems too extra for romantic entanglements, and Nela recognizes her own behaviors from when she’d watch over Alex whenever he was sick.

“Your fridge is empty,” he says. Yes, she was about to buy food when the news about Evelyn came. “I’ll go down and buy some stuff.”

“No,” Nela protests so quickly that River’s body stiffens.

She should tell him to go. What’s he to do, stay hungry? The shame covers her, because she’s afraid to stay alone in her own apartment that has multiple defenses.

There’s no danger here. None of it is rational, none of it makes sense, and yet the need for the company is so primal it almost takes her breath away. All of a sudden Nela turns into a little girl who not only had to fare alone for the majority of the time, but who had to stay brave for her baby brother, pushing away fears of men and monsters.

She should tell River to go. He’d be out for ten minutes only.

“Don’t go,” she whispers, voice weak and lips trembling. “There are takeout menus on the fridge. Neon Chow and Good Slice deliver. Get whatever you want, I’ll pay you back, just… don’t go tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” River says with no judgment in his voice. “Can I take a shower? I’d wash my clothes, too.”

“Sure,” Nela nods, relieved and embarrassed and the same time. “I think I have some sweats and pajama pants my brother left. They should be in the hamper in the bathroom. All the stuff there is clean, take what you need.”

“All right,” he smiles. “I’ll check up on you in a few minutes.”

“Just… leave the door open, okay?” She breathes.

“Got you.”

Maybe if not for the pain and the tiredness, Nela would wallow in shame for longer, but her body relaxes into the warmth and softness of the bed, craving comfort.

She listens to the sounds of River taking a shower, soothed by the company. Not just any company, but him specifically, being here.

River’s a sweet guy. Not only when he wants something, but he carries that sweetness all the time, and whatever he’s been through in his life; the loss of parents, the family troubles, probably a bunch of shitty relationships, the fucked up job picking at his conscience; all the mistakes he must have made… None of it took away that sweetness.

That is rare in a world like this. Perhaps it is rare in any world imaginable. Rare and precious.

_Babcia_ Aniela would like him if she was still alive. Yeah, she’d huff about his past, but she’d like him. The way he devours food with pleasure, his boastful moments when he tries to impress. She’d like how tall and big he his; she’d like his eagerness to help.

_Babcia_ Aniela was a bit lenient with men. Common trait, not only among Polish women. She always expected more caution and reason from Nela than V. She always catered to her partner Diego when he was still among them. For all her strength, she’d still believe some shit about letting the man be the head of the household.

She liked some boyfriends Nela should have stayed away from, but when she hated someone, she was never in the wrong. Every single fucking time she’d warn Nela about a male, Nela came back crying or worse.

She’d approve of River, that’s for sure. Maybe it doesn’t mean that much on its own, but somehow the thought soothes Nela’s heart.

Mind buzzing, full of the images of River at the kitchen table talking with _babcia_ Aniela, Nela slips into the land of dreams.

* * *

The dreams plague her. The old factory in the Charter Hill run by the Scavs, the bed in the middle of the room with a camera pointing at it, and Nela, naked and bleeding, bound and chained, touched, and prodded, and tortured and raped.

The pain is real, so real.

She wakes, sitting up, the pain buzzing so hard it almost knocks her out.

The room is dark, too dark; only the fluorescent Jesus emitting the faint glow.

The tears fall down her cheeks. It’s hard to breathe.

It seems like she’s alone, but then snores from the living room reach her ear.

“River,” she tries, but it comes off as barely a rasp. “River!!!” She screams as the anxiety starts to choke her.

She’s crying in earnest when she hears his steps. He flicks on the bedroom light.

“What’s wrong?” River asks sharply, alarmed. “Nela? Is your wound okay?”

“Yeah, uhm,” she lifts her shirt, and the dressing seems fine. “It’s fine, I just—I had a bad dream.”

Even though he’s not like that, she half-expects him to scoff at her, but he only comes closer and sits by the bed.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“I always keep the light on when I’m by myself,” she confesses.

“Oh,” he swallows. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I turned the lights off when I saw you asleep.”

He’s bare-chested, wearing V’s pajamas, too tight and short on him. His skin emits warmth, and she sobs, reaching out to him with her arms.

River pulls her into a hug, settling her on his lap and cradling her with his arms.

“It’s okay, baby,” he repeats when her grip tightens. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

She cries it all out; more than the yesterday’s events but all the tension that’s been building and building for weeks. Her nose clogs, her eyes puff up, but she holds onto River as any restraints she might have had come crumbling down.

He smells a little of her strawberry body wash, mixed with that wonderful regular River scent.

“I got you, Nela,” he pets her knotted curls. “I got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for the comments - it fuels the writing fire.
> 
> The next chapter will have more in-depth conversations between River and Nela that night.


	18. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Nela talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: talking about death

How long does it take for her to calm down? Nela doesn’t know, but eventually she runs out of tears. The crying leaves her with a pounding headache and the pulsating pain coming from her incision.

“It hurts,” she whispers, and River loosens his embrace. “No, not you. It hurts in general.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, brushing her arm in a careful gesture. “It’s time for another dose of pain meds. I’ll bring you the inhaler, can you move? I’ll help.”

He almost lifts her up to slide her ass off his lap. Nela takes a few deep breaths to pull herself together while River retrieves the prescriptions.

She uses the inhaler, letting it fill her lungs. Those meds usually work fast, and after a minute the pain loses its edge.

“Better,” she says, looking at the man before her and craving more of his touch. She has no right to ask for more, but he keeps on giving. “Will you lie with me? I don’t wanna sleep alone. Didn’t think you’d take the couch, to be honest.”

He graces her with a warm, tender smile. “Didn’t wanna assume. Which side do you prefer?”

“By the window,” she shifts to give him space to let him slip under the covers, too. “Right there on the shelf by your side there’s a small star projector. Can you turn it on?”

“Sure,” he leans in and presses the button.

The room covers in the soft sapphire tint, with tons of white little white stars rotating on the ceiling. It’s not the accurate representation of the galaxy, of course. More of a cheap electronic toy, but Nela loves it.

“Not as nice as the real night sky,” she breathes, remembering that River likes the desert and the nature.

“It’s lovely,” he says, and then glances at her.

The stars reflect on his face. Nela knows that face well, from that gorgeous, dark ‘ganic eye to the ancient implant that somehow fits his features so well, to the scarring around it and the lines on the forehead, to the chiseled cheekbones and those perfect lips.

River’s face is the one she could fall asleep and wake up to; but would he even want the same thing?

“Wanna come here?” He taps his chest around the heart.

“Yeah,” Nela wiggles herself closer, laying her head in the spot that truly seems made right for her.

River fixes the covers above them, making sure they’re all bundled up. Nela hears his steady heartbeat, pressing closer, and he places one of his hand on her back and another on her thigh. He always touches her with such certainty, and yet he’s so sweet and gentle.

“Did you get some food today?” She asks.

“Yeah. I ordered from the Neon Chow. It was pretty good. I got you a chicken and noodle soup and an egg drop soup. Dunno which you prefer, but I can heat it up for you anytime.”

“I’m good,” Nela doesn’t want to break the warm comfort they share. “I’ll be starving in the morning, though.”

“Hear you loud and clear,” his chest shakes as he chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll feed you. Have I ever not done that?”

“You are most generous with food,” she agrees readily, and in truth, River’s generous with everything he gives out.

“Damn right I am,” he boasts.

“River?”

“Mhm?”

She nuzzles into his chest; the haven for tonight. “I really appreciate you being here. Not only you rescued me, but you waited for hours at the clinic, and now you’re here.”

River stays silent for a moment, his heartbeat loud within the quiet. “There was a moment I thought I’d lose you. Been a while since I got so scared. Wasn’t gonna leave you alone at the clinic, though Vik seems a preem guy.”

“I got scared, too. Still hasn’t snapped out of it, I think. I don’t know if I’m even gonna fall asleep again.”

“We can stay this until the morning,” River whispers. “I’m not rushing anywhere. Called the web-designer you mentioned. I should have that website ready in a couple of days. Maybe then my schedule will fill, but for now, I’m all yours.”

“I guess I should be happy.” Nela quips. “That I got the pro-bono damsel-in-distress rescue.”

“And all the complimentary services,” he adds, amused. “Only for the VIP members.”

“Mhm?” She teases. “Am I the VIP?”

“Yup. Friends and family,” River answers calmly.

The tenderness pierces through Nela’s defenses, one by one.

* * *

They rest, melted together under the silly little galaxy gleaming on the walls and the ceiling. The wound might still pull and cause pain here and there, but otherwise the moment is peaceful. Perfect.

Nela doesn’t want it to end.

“Can I ask you something?” River mutters, and her heart skips a beat.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I know there are things you don’t wanna share about V, and I respect that. I was still surprised when Vik stopped me from calling him. I can’t imagine not knowing that Joss got hurt, so I’m gonna ask bluntly; are you protecting your brother or do you not trust him?”

The question dispels some comfort between them, but Nela gets where it comes from. How’d she to answer that?

“I trust V with my life,” she says, and then she wonders if it’s actually true. “No, really, I trust him in the sense that I know he’d never willfully bring me harm, and he’d never betray me. To be honest, though, we’ve always had this relationship when I’d take care of him and protect him. I was dealing with adult shit when he was still just a kid, and—I dunno, River. There are things that happened to me that he doesn’t know about. Besides, he has his own shit to worry about. I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s also annoying as fuck. You know how many times I’ve been tempted to hack his ‘ware and fuckin’ reset him?”

River laughs. “I mean, I can imagine that. Still remember your face when he bolted out of the car that first time we met.”

“I’d probably murder him back then if not for the police presence,” Nela sighs to her memory. “Listen, if you have called V, I would not have been mad or anything. Just prefer it this way.”

“Does he know about anything between us…? I wasn’t sure. He called quite the few times when you were at my place.”

“It’s not his biz, but he knows of you. Not any details, but he knows it’s your place I was staying at. V’s not the protective brother type. He doesn’t care what I do.”

Is that fair to say? She doesn’t even know. Sure, their relationship is imbalanced, but shit, he’s been dealing with an impossible situation. It’s kinda understandable he takes little interest, especially when Nela guards her privacy.

“Okay. I was just wondering. ”

“I’m not trying to hide,” Nela breathes, exacerbated, because she’s been holding it for so long. “V is sick, that’s what I can tell you. Really, really sick. He’s on borrowed time already, and—well. It’s complicated. That’s why I always pick up whenever he calls and why I run whenever he needs anything. That’s why I did the Rhyne job with you.”

That’s why she’s afraid to try a relationship. Sure, it isn’t the only reason, but it’s the main one.

“Fuck,” River whispers. “I figured it was bad, but—I’m sorry, Nela.”

“Thanks. I’ve been such a mess during the last months,” she takes a deep breath, looking back at the frantic days and sleepless nights and the little respite between. All respite in River’s arms.

“I don’t wanna make it about me, because that’s not the point. Do you have anyone to talk to? Do you talk with anyone at all?”

“Not really,” she admits with a painful lump in her throat. “There are people who know about V, but none of whom I’ve been taking much.”

“Nobody can hold it in for too long,” River says. “Whenever you’re ready, whatever you choose to share with me, I’ll be there.”

“You’re good at it,” Nela takes a deep breath.

“I’m not that kind of person for whom it’s easy to talk about what’s bitin’ my ass, so I get it, and you’re even worse than me. It’s hard to find someone to trust, especially in this city. I left the force and found myself alone. Sure, I still have some acquaintances even after everything, but would I trust them? No.”

“I trust you,” she says. “Don’t think you’re here by accident. I’ve shared more with you in the last months than anyone.”

He pauses. “It means a lot. I trust you, too.”

It might not be the love confession Nela’s tempted to fall into, but on the night like this, after a close call that continues to bring pain, those words are everything.

* * *

They switch positions to Nela’s favorite, when River’s spooning her from behind. He doesn’t press at her stomach, careful not to hurt her, but his cyberhand still rests on her thigh; cold and yet so soothing in the familiarity of his touch.

It doesn’t matter that with her hacking skills, Nela is quite sure he could outperform him in combat. Now she’s small and wounded, and he’s guarding her. He’s so warm; her back flushed with his chest, her ass pressed into him. River is a shield between her and the big bad world.

She reaches for his ‘ganic hand, and they interlock fingers.

“I’m scared of death,” she says, and then gasps at her own admission, but it doesn’t startle him. “Not just of dying, though I’m scared of that, too. Death, in general.”

“Yeah,” his breath teases the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“I don’t know what awaits after death or if anything does. Sometimes that mystery is soothing, but more often than not it fills me with the cold, deep-seated fear.”

“Aren’t you Catholic?” He asks. “You have Jesus glowing on your nightstand. Oh, wait, are you of those, uhm, Polish Catholics?”

Nela snorts. “I was baptized in the Warsaw Church, but it didn’t last. There’s a small Warsaw Catholic Church in the Glen, but fuck me, they’re crazy. Honestly, the faith we were raised in was the Catholic flavor of the streets of Heywood. _Babcia Aniela_ stopped going to the Warsaw Church after getting with Diego, who was Mexican. Quite a transgression against the rules with all its shitty racist ‘we’re the chosen people, we speak Polish only, think Polish thoughts, isolate ourselves from the others’ like we aren’t all in living in Cali in the first place.”

“Was Diego a Valentino?”

“Do you even need to ask? Yes, he was. He was decent, all things considering. Treated my grandma well. It was back when we all lived in the Glen. _Babcia Aniela_ and Diego would attend the Sunday mass said by Padre at the time.”

“Now I gather what you mean when you say that you know him. Thought he’s just your fixer.”

“Padre’s my fixer, sure. He also gives me unsolicited spiritual advice and sends the biblical quotes my way, so I guess that makes him my priest. You know, sometimes I’m not even sure I believe in God, but I kept Jesus on my nightstand after my grandma’s death, I still pray, and I’ll even go to confession once in a couple of years if someone like Padre guilts me around Lent. Guess that makes the regular Heywood Catholic. What about you, River? Do you believe in God, or—?”

“Guess you could say so,” River says. “I believe in the Creator of sorts. I’m not Christian, though I’ve lived with a Catholic family in Santo Domingo as a kid for a while, so I know the customs. Losing parents so early meant that me and Joss lost access to our heritage and culture. People would assume I was Black or Latino, and the Native kids were few and between. Joss was the first one to try to reconnect with our roots, especially after Randy was born. I think kids make you question all sorts of things about your identity, where you come from and what you believe in. When it comes to death, I believe in the spirit world, and that your ancestors continue to live on that way. I wish I had my parents to teach me the ways instead of me and Joss trying to reconstruct the trajectory of our family’s beliefs, but I hold on to what I’ve gained. It matters to me.”

“I’ve noticed your jewelry, of course,” she brushes against his necklace. “Never seen you take it off.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s been important for me to stay visible, you know? Be recognized for who I am. Even when I was navigating the streets as a badge.”

“Yeah. I hear you.”

“I’m still scared of death, just like you are. I think even those who might have the clarity of their beliefs get scared. I—I witnessed the death of my parents. They were murdered during the robbery when I was a young boy. It fucked me up pretty bad.”

Nela’s heart sinks. “Oh, River, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Just like the circumstances of you mother’s passing, I rarely share it. I carried so much anger when I was younger. I think holding onto the thought that my parents’ spirits and the spirits of my ancestors are still here have always provided comfort. I still have fears. Life is one turbulent mess.”

Her grip on his hand tightens, and Nela wishes for her presence to soothe him as well.

“It is messy,” she says. “When I was younger, I thought that experience would bring only resilience and wisdom, and instead I catch myself turning into a frightened child often, even though I never admit it out loud.”

“Same,” he pulls her even closer into his hug. “I’ve made it to my forties, which is not a given in this city. If you’re a regular folk, if you try to be good… Damn. My first partner of the force, Jamie Sheen; he blew his brains out. I know what you think about the badges, and I even agree; but he was a decent kid. Couldn’t live with the way things were handled. Now I’m here, years later, asking myself if I wasted two decades on the force. All of my youth. I’m getting old. Perhaps not really, but old for this city. I feel it in my bones. I get scared of dying from time to time, but I also get scared that I’ve let life pass me by a little. It’s not like I brought any change I had imagined as a rookie to the NCPD. Tried to do my job well, but that’s it. Had a couple of serious relationships, none of which worked out. Plenty of casual stuff throughout the years. Helped my sister with her kids, that I’m proud of, but even with that I didn’t stick to being a good uncle after our fallout. I used to look at my life and see the future ahead, but now I honestly think I probably lived most of my life, and that’s already been a longer life than what my parents have been given.”

Nela rolls over, whining in pain, but she needs to look at River’s face, and to touch him, to caress his cheek.

“For all my sadness today, River,” she whispers. “I don’t think it’s the final chapter for either of us.”

“Shit, I put the downer on our conversation, huh?” He whispers, putting an unruly curl behind her ear.

“Nah,” Nela lets out a small giggle. “Told you, this is a Polish home on the Slavic block. Safe space for melancholy. No need for positive vibes, you just gotta be real. I can take it. The melancholy runs in my blood.”

“Does it?” He breathes. “Cause somehow you got the best smile. Radiant.”

She has no control; her smile widens, even as Nela trembles with emotion. “It’s the melancholy that makes the smile real. See, oddly enough, but this conversation makes me feel better. Naming the fears, naming the reality around allows to extract joy and lean into the moments when life’s good. Sometimes I think of the world through time and space, and I think most people throughout the history have lived in the conditions they had no control over. We think we experience the most terrible times, because we could easily argue that at some point in the past this world was seemingly safer and fairer. But to think of the whole world since its inception, we’d see terror, and violence, and wars, and hunger, and disease. It’s not right. It has never been right, but people have lived through it all, feeling emotions as complex as we do right now. There has always been art, and joy, and contentment, and love, however fleeing. However many voices and stories have dissipated into the history. I dunno. It should make me sad, but I find some comfort in that community of experience that surpasses my own life. It is not as lonely.”

“No, it’s not,” River says, staring into her.

She closes her eyes, hiding in his tender embrace. It shouldn’t count for an escape when she’s resting with him and in him.

“I think I’m getting kinda tired,” she whispers.

“Yeah? I could use some sleep, too.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” She asks with hope.

“Yes, baby. I’ll stay as long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I know it's a slow chapter but I think it was important for Nela and River to talk. Don't worry, soon we're gonna get more action ;) 
> 
> Few notes to contextualize; CDPR (a Polish company) included a shard about the Warsaw Catholic Church, which is a fictional church and the take on alternative history, but it also is a sort of pastiche of the worst tendencies of Catholicism in Poland and Polish nationalism. As a Pole myself, I feel comfortable playing with the concept and picking up on the tropes and portraying facets of Polish culture in negative light and incorporating it into my story. Nela isn't particularly religious, but there's no doubt for me that cultural Catholicism in various flavors is in general dominant around Heywood, and I think sooner or later it religion would be the topic of conversation for Nela.
> 
> I am absolutely not qualified to go into details about River's identity as Native American, but it's clear to me it's important for him enough to signify it, so I tried to kept it both realistic and simple, especially that it's Nela's POV and he's speaking to her - an outsider of his culture and cultural heritage. Also given what I imagine to be Heywood demographics, I'd say that River is far more fluent in facets of Nela's identity (like your regular Catholicism given the Valentinos etc) that Nela might be with River. Yes, it's an imbalance, but I think some imbalances are realistic.
> 
> If you ever want to criticize or correct how I portray River as a Native American man, feel free and I promise to listen. I try to consult resources and be careful, but it's not my cultural identity, so I feel much more comfortable writing Nela's grapples with faith and identity. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you still enjoyed this chapter and the context it provided, and how both Nela and River were vulnerable with each other.
> 
> Stay safe and I appreciate your comments :)


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